Pluto
by bikelock28
Summary: A series of Lupin/ Tonks one-shots. Canon universe. Ch68 now up. "Which one?" "Should you wear?" he clarifies. "No, which one should I use as the flag of the country I'm becoming prime minister of".
1. Wolf Boy

**Welcome to my Lupin/Tonks series. Chapters will be in no particular order and set in the canon universe. I hope you enjoy. First up, here's a moment set a couple of weeks after Teddy's birth in _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows._**

Wolf Boy

"Dora?"

"Yeah?"

She's lying across his lap, allegedly reading _Catalonian Defensive Duelling Jinxes Volume 12_ , although in truth she hasn't turned a page for ten minutes. Mum's taken Teddy out in the pushchair to give them some time to themselves, and it says a lot about the world at present, Tonks reckons, that she's spending that time trying to stay awake while swotting up on close-contact duelling techniques.

Her husband doesn't answer so she glances up at him. He's staring straight ahead, jaw tensed and an uncomfortable expression on his face.

"What is it?"

Remus jiggles his knee uncomfortably and Tonks sits up, feeling more concerned. He's been fantastic since Teddy was born- he's tonnes more patient with their baby than she is, he always gets up with her when Teddy needs feeding in the night, and he's loads better at nappies. Remus talks to their son all the time, giving him a running commentary on whatever's happening. He loves drawing him, him and her, the three of them together. Remus was this elated for the first few days after they were married, but, Tonks remembers, there was an uncomfortable intensity to that joy. Remus was excited to the extent that she kicked herself for not anticipating the comedown which followed a few days later. Now he's happy but he's _calm_ too. Content.

When her husband speaks his voice is even. "I've got a vial of Wolfsbane hidden under the sink,"

The mention of the werewolf catches Tonks by surprise. Truth be told, she'd forgotten about all that. This month has been the first in almost two years where she hasn't felt the full moon looming. She's so perturbed by this omission that it takes her a few moments to process what Remus has actually said.

"Oh. Okay," she mumbles.

"I've been saving it to use for Teddy's first full moon,"

Oh God, no. "Remus-"

"I know, I know. But he might be,"

He won't be. Tonks and her husband have researched for months, and not found a single record of lycanthropy being inherited from a parent. Simple biology of acquired traits, but Remus, who usually likes to rely on facts and evidence, remains unconvinced. His scepticism frustrated Tonks at first, but now anger's faded into pity. He's terrified, and that hurts her even more because in every other respect Remus loves being a dad. She'd hoped that fatherhood had finally put his fearful hopelessness behind him.

"I want to be in my own mind when he changes in case you need help," Remus continues.

 _"If_ he changes" she insists. He won't change.

"If he changes," Remus agrees. He's speaking in the detached tone he uses when he's nervous, and it's obvious that he's been rehearsing what to say.

"So what are you going to do?" Tonks asks, allowing him to follow his script.

"I'm going to show you what happens and how to restrain him. You can use my muzzle and mits. I'll be in another room and if anything looks like it's going to go wrong you can fetch me and I'll be able to-" Remus pauses, then says, "Control him,"

In their research about inherited lycanthropy, Tonks had come across information about how to confine a baby werewolf. It's important to force the baby down during their transformation, to be able to muzzle the wolf as soon as possible. She couldn't do that. Couldn't shove Teddy's sweet little face into the mattress while he mutates under her hands. Tonks has never seen a transformation take place but from what she's read, and the little Remus has told her, it's disorientating and humiliating and unbearably painful. Their beautiful son...

And then there'll be _all night_ with Teddy howling and gnashing and clawing. He'll be so frightened. And what if she can't restrain him? What's Remus going to do- growl at their son until Teddy's backed into a corner, whimpering? Bat him with his claws? Grab Teddy in his mouth and shake him? Remus couldn't do that. He wouldn't do that. _He won't have to_ do that, Tonks tells herself firmly, because Teddy will not be a werewolf.

"Okay," she whispers, hoping that her husband can't hear the tremble in her voice.

* * *

He's been taking the potion for the last few days. He's set the alarm clock to go off two minutes before the moonrise, so Tonks knows exactly when it's going to happen. He's explained about what a transformation looks like, how big Teddy will get, how he'll move, and how to hold him down when it happens. He's demonstrated the spells Dad used to contain him during his childhood transformations. Remus had hoped that, being an Auror, Dora would cope with the roughness of it all, but she'd got upset, and all he could do was hold her and tell her how sorry he was that it had come to this. He's written everything down in case she forgets or panics. He's given her the muzzle he used to use when transforming at Grimmauld Place. Sirius was on full moon duty back then, and although Remus usually doesn't like anybody fussing or even seeing him during his transformations, it was always different with Padfoot. Moreover, it gave Sirius a purpose. Sirius got good at tying on Remus' muzzle and the mittens he wore over his claws. And when Padfoot turned into the dog and they curled up together on the cold cellar floor, it had been almost like old times.

When they were together two years ago, Remus hadn't wanted Tonks to see him transformed. As time went on, however, it became an inevitability. He'd fallen for her so hard, and was telling her things he couldn't say to anybody else, and she was so kind to him, that he found himself agreeing to it. It was best, he told himself, to get this out of the way, so if she was horrified she could end things with him before it got too serious. Remus had seen a flicker of that revulsion on the night of the full moon, when Tonks trotted down the stairs into the cellar behind Sirius. A flash of terror in her eyes when she saw him in his werewolf body. And then she'd said, "Wotcher, Remus," and clutched onto Sirius' arm with one hand, while the other hand reached out to stroke his neck. Remus hadn't known what to do and had stood there dumbly, on his four legs, while she patted his fur. Dora and Sirius had come closer, until her arms were around Remus' neck, cuddling him. It was so strange and so glorious and what had he done to deserve someone like this? A week later Sirius was dead, and a fortnight after that Remus split up with her and broke her heart and didn't see her again for a year.

Usually Wolfsbane makes the full moon week easier; Remus worries less so he sleeps better so he isn't as tired so he worries less. The back-ache and clamminess are normally still there, but not as debilitating as when he isn't on the potion. But after nearly a year of not taking Wolfsbane (unsurprisingly, it's impossible to come by these days), this month Remus feels as bad as he can remember about the impending full moon.

He likes to stay up with Tonks when Teddy needs feeding in the night, holding his wife while she holds their baby. He changes Teddy's nappy afterwards, puts him back in his cot and kisses him goodnight and pleads with him not to wake again until the morning. However, last night when Teddy woke up and Remus tried to fetch him, Remus' bones protested loudly at the movement. Tonks told him that she'd be fine on her own and he should go back to sleep, but Teddy wasn't fine- he'd yowled and wailed. It was _so loud,_ and Remus' hearing gets sensitive around the full moon, so the bawling sounded even worse. He had to shove a pillow over his head to try to drown the noise out. Remus was sure that Teddy was crying so much because he was hurting too, because it the moon was affecting him in the same way, because tonight he's going to transform into a werewolf. Remus couldn't even get out of bed to comfort him, despite it being all his fault that his son was in such pain. It took Dora nearly an hour to calm the baby down, and even after that Remus couldn't get back to sleep.

Now, he sits down beside the cot, lifts up the bars and reaches in. His son's awake now too, but he isn't crying. He's staring at Remus with his dark eyes. They're Andromeda's eyes, which certainly isn't helpful. Remus is far too used to being on the receiving end of a glare from those eyes.

He puts his head down on the mattress beside Teddy's, and rests his palm on his son's back.

"Hello, Teddy," he murmurs, "You and I need to have a chat,"

It occurs to Remus then that he doesn't know what to say, and that this is silly because of course Teddy doesn't understand him. It's alright chattering to the baby when he's giving him a bath or strapping him in the pushchair, but this is different. Remus swallows.

"Something is going to happen tonight and it might be bad. You won't know what's happening, and it'll be very scary and very painful. I didn't want this for you, and it isn't because of anything you did. You're a good boy. You didn't deserve this. This is _my_ fault. All my fault, and I'm sorry, Teddy. I am so, so sorry".

His son's dark eyes stare back at him.

* * *

She stands over the coat. The alarm clock went off a few moments ago, which means the moon's about to rise. Tonks thinks of Remus, who's in the living room, on the other side of the wall. He seldom about transforming, and if he does it's usually the factual side. But once, late at night a few months ago, he mumbled to Tonks that the waiting is the worse part. That after all these years it still terrifies him. At least if Teddy is a werewolf (he won't be, he can't be, he won't be), Remus can be there to comfort him when they both change. Whatever Remus has or hasn't passed down to Teddy, Tonks reckons, their son is a lucky boy to have Remus Lupin as his father.

Teddy himself is asleep now, breathing steadily and peacefully. Babies are supposed to sleep face-up, but if he transforms it'll be easier to squash him down if he's already on his front. Teddy hadn't protested about the change in position when they'd put him to bed earlier- Tonks reckons he was so exhausted from being up all night the night before that he'd sleep any way around. She runs through the instructions again in her mind, and the Mad-Eye Moody voice embedded in her brain growls at her to _keep a clear head. Don't get distracted, don't get emotional. There's a job to do._ But that's easier said than done when the job involves her own baby.

"Please don't be, Teddy," she mumbles, "I know you won't be. Please don't be,"

Please.

* * *

The moon peeps through the clouds, then sneaks out into full view. It's glowing silver. Teddy Lupin wriggles in his sleep.

* * *

Body contorting. Bones ripping through his skin. Pain pain pain pain pain. Make it stop make it stop. Dad, make it stop. Pain pain pain pain. Face stretching. Spine twisting. Help me. Pain pain pain. Make it stop. Dad. Help. Pain. Stop.

Wolf.

* * *

There's a thump and a scuffle and a noise between a whimper and a howl. Oh, Remus, Remus, _Remus_ , she thinks, but keeps her eyes on Teddy. Teddy. Teddy, who looks the same as he always does. Teddy, who is asleep. Teddy, who is still. _He hasn't changed_. Tonks feels a gasp yanked out of her body. Oh, thank Merlin _._ Thank God. Thank luck or biology or whatever it is that's spared them that. That has given them this. Then Mad-Eye's voice barks at her to _stay alert, don't jump the gun._ Tonks fixes her eyes on Teddy's body and counts to ten. No change. Counts to twenty, thirty, forty, and she's counting faster now because this is going through the motions, this is unnecessary because if Teddy was going to transform he would have done by now. She can see the full moon through the window out of the corner of her eye, and she can see her tiny son sleeping soundly. Tonks kneels down beside the cot, slips her hand between the bars to touch Teddy's, and feels his fingers grasp hers.

"Well done, Teddy. Good boy. Well done,"

Tonks doesn't know what else to say to him. She jumps to her feet, runs out of the bedroom and through the hall to tell her husband. She's so thrilled that she forgets that Remus is transformed until she knocks on the living room door, calling his name, and receives two barks- _yes_ \- in reply. She's only seen him transformed once before. It had gone okay, but it was frightening and strange and desperately upsetting. Tonks steels herself, and opens the door. The wolf is at the back of the room by the window, as far away from her as it can get. It- he- is huge. Merlin's beard, she's forgotten how gigantic and imposing he is. Yellow eyes and drooping jowls and teeth so long they stick out on either side. Claws the size of her fingers and matted hair hanging off four sinewy legs. Her flinch is instinctive. The wolf stares at her- expectant, ready.

"He didn't change," Tonks breathes, a tear dribbling from her eye, "Remus, he didn't change. He's still himself, he's not a werewolf,"

The words drop around them both. Nobody moves. Silence.

"Did you understand? He didn't change,"

The wolf barks twice, quietly, and slowly sits back on his hind legs. He puts his front paws and head on the floor. Tonks can't tell what he's thinking. She moves to come over and hug him, but the wolf leaps to his feet and edges backwards, glaring and staring at her left hand. The muzzle, she remembers- he won't go near anybody unless he's wearing it.

"Okay," she says, and the wolf stares at her intently as he lets her slowly move behind him and tie it over his nose and mouth from the back. Tonks tries to do it gently, but the straps have to be yanked and tied hard.

"Good now?" she asks. His jaw's clamped shut so he can't bark, but he snorts twice in affirmation.

"Teddy hasn't changed. He isn't a werewolf," Tonks whispers. She burrows her face into the ragged fur on the wolf's neck. Her words seem to sink in for Remus now, because he nods, and Tonks can hear his wagging tail thwacking the curtain, and he's snorting in pairs- _Yes, yes, yes!_ She peels her face away and beams. Remus scurries a victory lap around the room.

"Do you want me to bring him to you? Do you want to see?"

Remus stops abruptly and the yellow eyes glare again. His single _No_ snort is so hard it's almost a growl.

"Alright, I won't then. But you believe m-"

On cue, Teddy starts to cry in the next room.

Remus freezes again and Tonks beams. "There he is. He wants to prove to you that he hasn't changed,"

Remus wriggles, and nods vigorously.

"He's probably moaning about sleeping on his front or something. I'd better see to him,"

 _Yes._

Tonks reaches out to rub Remus' fur with both hands, then hurries back to their crying, perfect, human son.

* * *

Dawn rising. Slamming back into his own body. Limbs shortening. Face squashing. Pail pain pain pain pain. Cracking. Fur receding. Pain pain pain.

Man. Sprawled on the floor. Early morning light. He waves a hand in front of his face. It's his own hand, not a paw, and then he's on his feet. Lurching towards the door, staggering through the hall into the bedroom. Teddy Teddy Teddy Teddy. On the floor again- he can't stand- crawling to the cot. Shoves the bars up and draws his son into his arms. Teddy Teddy Teddy. His son, not a wolf, not a werewolf. All boy, the most incredible boy and Remus is squeezing him tight. His wonderful son. Remus buries his face against Teddy's fluffy blue hair. He's not he's not he is not not not NOT A WEREWOLF. HE IS NOT A WEREWOLF.

"Remus. Remus,"

Dora's voice, and by her tone he suspects she might have said it a few times already. He looks for her voice and knocks his head into hers. Her arms are around him. He sees her face and she's crying, and he must be too because she's wiping his cheek with her thumb. He clutches Teddy tighter. Teddy Teddy Teddy Teddy Teddy.

"You're shivering, you're freezing. Come on, let's get you into your clothes,"

He tries to tell her no, he isn't letting go of their son because their son is not a werewolf. But all that comes out is a groan.

"Remus, look at me". He obeys. "If you keep squeezing him he's going to cry. And you need to get warm. So you're going to give me Teddy and stand up and put some clothes on,"

He didn't know he was cold. He doesn't know how long he's been holding him. Tonks is stroking his hands and she eases the baby out of his arms and puts Teddy on the carpet. Remus wants to tell her that their son shouldn't sleep on the floor, because their son shouldn't wake up on the floor, because their son is not a werewolf. But she shushes him and guides him to his feet and helps him into his jogging bottoms and hoody.

"That's better. I think you tried to move too fast too soon after changing back, didn't you? You wanted to be with him,"

Remus' knees give way again when he nods so he sinks onto the bed. Tonks is telling him to keep breathing and that he's fine, everything's fine. He tries to talk but chokes on the words, and then Dora is tipping a glass of water down his throat. He swallows, thinking about how she looks after him so kindly with so little complaint, even when he's gone too fast and overwhelmed himself like this.

"Th- tank you," Remus forces out, "T'is is all you, it's you,"

It's all her doing that Teddy is not not not a werewolf. All her. She's holding his face again, which is still teary and snotty.

"It was us. Us, yeah?" she says, and she hugs him tight for a long time. _Teddy didn't change, Teddy didn't transform._ Then she pushes him gently onto his back and tells him he should rest now.

"No. Teddy. Need Teddy," Remus croaks. He has to hold him again. He is not a werewolf.

"Of course," Tonks says, and a moment later she's putting his son on his chest. Teddy is sleeping soundly like he did at night. Like he always will. Remus desperately wants to tell James.

"Anything else you need?" Dora asks. He shakes his head. There's nothing else he needs now that Teddy is not not not not not a werewolf. He's the most glorious boy, what a clever boy. Perhaps he says that out loud because, Tonks beams and kisses them both. She climbs into bed beside him and wraps her arm around his waist. Their baby wriggles in his sleep, and Remus reckons that he'll be asleep soon too. He can feel himself nodding off, and that's okay because Teddy not a werewolf.

"Remus?" mumbles Dora.

He's sinking into sleep and can only manage a, "Hmm?"

"Told you so".

* * *

 **Thank you for reading. If you have a moment to review, I'd be very grateful. Thanks again, and have a fab day.**


	2. Data

Data

He said that he wanted them to look inconspicuous, so he wasn't surprised when Tonks turned up in yellow tights, a purple dragon-skin jacket, a skirt so short he wasn't sure why she'd bothered to put it on at all, and neon-turquoise hair.

"Wotcher, Remus,"

But he couldn't pretend to not be pleased to see her. "Hello,"

She stepped out of his fireplace, flicked ash off her shoulder, and stamped a wet kiss on his cheek.

"You ready?" she asked, rubbing her thumb over where her mouth had touched his skin (it had taken Remus few weeks to realise that when she did that she was wiping off the lipstick she'd just smudged onto his face. Sometimes he had to laugh about how little he knew about having a girlfriend).

"Yes," he nodded, looking Tonks up and down. There wasn't a chance they were going to get into any pub without people looking at her. Which, Remus thought wearily, was what she wanted. Tonks always wanted to be noticed. He usually wanted to be overlooked.

"But, well…" he added, tailing off.

"Oh right, my face. What do you want me to look like?" she chirped. When he agreed to go out with her (he didn't like the word "date") he made her promise that she'd go wearing another face. Someone more his age, he'd suggested, so they could pretend she was his sister. Although it wasn't going to work since Tonks hadn't deigned to dress accordingly.

"Anything not like yourself," Remus suggested half-heartedly.

"Come on, be more specific. Was there at a girl at school who you'd want everybody to know you've landed?"

Remus sat down on one of his rickety armchairs. "No,"

"You can tell me, I don't mind," Tonks shrugged.

"There were no girls at school," he told her stiffly.

She grinned her wicked grin. "That's not what Sirius told me,"

Remus sighed. "Yes, and he probably added that any girl who appeared interested in _me_ was _in fact_ using me to get closer to _him,"_

"Aaw, poor Moony, surrounded by girls who wanted to go to third base with you. Just what every teenage boy dreads,"

He knew she was teasing him but he wasn't sure what she meant. That happened a lot. "Third what?"

"Base. It's an American Muggle thing, it means- actually, never mind. You and me have barely got to second,"

She rolled her eyes and screwed up her face. The red hair darkened and curled, and her cheeks filled out. The twins and Ron were fixated on the process and fluidity of her morphs, and liked to watch her change. That had always struck Remus as voyeuristic, but unsurprisingly Tonks didn't mind.

When she finished her straining and wincing, the woman looking back at Remus had curly brown hair, brown eyes and freckles. She looked about Remus' age, which meant she looked younger than he did.

"How's this?" she asked. Her voice was different too.

"Well, it looks rather strange with the yellow tights," Remus pointed out.

"We're going to Camden. Nobody'll notice,"

He must have looked uncomfortable because Tonks added gently, "Hey. Thank you for doing this for me. It'll be fine, yeah?"

He'd been trying to convince himself of that for the past few days. Nobody had batted an eyelid when he and Tonks taken the kids back to school together on the Knight Bus. Today they'd be going to a busy Muggle place on a Saturday night _and_ she wasn't wearing her usual face. Even if somebody recognised _him_ , they won't know who he was with. Besides, going out with her would add to the illusion that he was a decent boyfriend (Tonks see through that obviously, but Remus knew that the effort was what mattered to her), they could do something new together, and they'd have fun. He always had fun with her.

"I know," Remus muttered. He stood up, picked his jacket up from where it'd been hanging on the back of the armchair and shrugged it on, checked that his wallet was in the pocket, and held his hand out to Tonks so they could disapparate together. And when they did he was smiling.

* * *

Number three. Remus watched Tonks' eyes flick over to the stocky blond-haired man in the jeans and green jacket walking by on their left. He was the _third_ handsome young Muggle man they'd passed on the street who she'd been distracted by. Her glances were only momentary, but they were moments longer than one usually looked at a passer-by. Remus had never considered himself a jealous person, and it wasn't jealousy or resentment he was feeling towards the boys his girlfriend was double-taking at. It was resignation. _Of course_ she was looking at them. Why wouldn't she be? They were normal, good-looking men. They were her age and probably had sensible jobs and actual friends and some promise of a future. They'd do important or interesting things with their lives. They were the sort of men she could introduce to her friends because her friends would _actually like_ them. They were men who were happy, or who would be in the future, and who would be fulfilled and successful like she would be. Men like her. Men, Remus thought wearily, not like him.

* * *

He let Tonks choose where they went for a drink. She needled him to decide but Remus kept muttering that he wasn't sure.

"This is more your field than mine," he insisted.

Tonks rolled her eyes and they'd ended up in a little bar decked out like a 1920s speakeasy.

"Look, Remus, old stuff. You like that," she'd said. Usually she was touchy when he called himself old, so he knew when she said that that she was irritated with him, and was sniping at him beyond her usual friendly teasing. Remus couldn't entirely blame her- he knew he was being timid and indecisive, but this expedition was starting to feel like a bad idea. Despite his repeated mental mantra of _it's fine it's fine,_ being in public with Tonks was making Remus feel exposed. He kept imagining the sinking in his stomach when he realised that somebody had recognised him, and then guilt for the mess Tonks find herself in afterwards. Remus' initial notoriety after resigning from Hogwarts two years ago had died down after a couple of months, and there had only been a handful of unpleasant encounters in Diagon Alley. But a few weeks ago that damn article mentioning him in relation to the centaurs had been published, and the scandal had leaked back into public consciousness. If someone who knew Tonks from the Ministry saw them together and realised it was her, they'd ask what she was doing out with a known werewolf, and surely her boss at the Auror office would get wind of it, and while being seen in public with a werewolf wasn't a sackable offence for an Auror, it wouldn't do her any favours. Every time Tonks mentioned one of her mates Remus dreaded to think what they'd say if they knew about him (perhaps she'd listen to them, see sense and end things with him. Is that what Remus was afraid of, he wondered? Selfish bastard). Not to mention the risk to the Order. Taking the kids to school on the Knight Bus had given her a degree of protection, partly because whichever side anyone who'd seen them stood on regarding Harry, they could be convinced that he needed to be accompanied by adults, either for his own protection or the safety of others. Plus, when you were travelling with Harry Potter anybody else in the vicinity was unlikely to be looking at you.

Despite Tonks wearing a different face at Remus' insistence, the fact that she was made him feel awkward. He didn't mind when she messed about with her nose or her hair her, because he could still see her usual face underneath. But this completely new face made it seem like she wasn't really Tonks. He hadn't expected to feel as uncomfortable about that as he did.

"I think I'll get a cocktail," she announced from behind the menu, "What about you?"

"Just a larger," Remus replied, taking his wallet out from his inside pocket. He'd collated all of his Muggle money the day before and had been pleased to discover that he had enough for at least a couple of drinks each. Perhaps a bit of booze was needed to cheer this date up, he thought wryly.

Tonks put her hand on his. "I'll get it," she told him.

"Thanks, but I've-"

"Remus "

"Just let me,"

"It doesn't matter, I'll-"

"I want to do something nice for you for once," he said impatiently. Merlin's beard, why was she always arguing?

"You're always nice to me," Tonks protested, "You make me food, you lend me books-"

It wasn't the same and he knew she knew it. He hated her making excuses for him. "I'm getting you a drink," he announced.

"You really don't have to,"

"I can afford a pint, you know," Remus scoffed. He was lucky to have friends who helped him out with money and places to stay. Poverty had been his lot in life for so long that Remus was hardly humiliated by it any more. But this was different. This was his girlfriend for goodness sake. He didn't need her charity.

Tonks huffed, folded her arms, thought for a moment and then said unexpectedly, "The bartender- is it a man or a woman?"

"What?"

"They're behind me, have a look,"

Unsure where this was going, Remus craned around to get a look at the bar. The man behind it was pouring a glass of wine for a young woman seated on a barstool.

"Man,"

Tonks beamed, "Wicked,"

She was without doubt the most perplexing person he had ever met. "Why?"

Tonks winked, then pulled her jacket hood up and put her hands over her face like she was a child playing hide and seek. After a few moments, she moved her hands away again. The curly-haired woman was gone and had been replaced by a very beautiful, very blonde teenage girl. Her skin was translucent, almost shiny, her eyes were huge and blue and her features were delicate. The girl bit her lip and looked up at Remus innocently.

"Can I have a martini and a larger, please?" she asked in a high, brittle voice.

"Err, what are you going?" Remus asked.

"Getting us free drinks," the beautiful girl shrugged, then added in a tone which suggested Remus was being an idiot, "I'm the Delacour girl,"

"Who?"

"The Beauxbatons champion from the Tri-Wizard," Tonks elaborated.

"Oh yes. I remember". Remus had seen photos and followed the fortunes of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang champions, but his focus had been on Harry and Cedric. The tournament was almost a year ago now and so much had happened since that he'd forgotten about the two non-Hogwarts competitors.

"Also known as the most stunning girl on the _planet._ I've been using her for a few months, mostly on Muggle guys," Tonks explained. She wriggled off her jacket, yanked her t-shirt down her chest and screwed her eyes up again. Her breasts swelled outwards.

"D'you think these are okay, or would he like bigger?" she asked.

Remus took another glance at the barman, then wondered what on Earth he was doing and looked back to Tonks. "I don't know,"

"Well, what would _you_ like?"

Was she honestly asking him what size breasts he'd prefer on the body of an eighteen-year-old? (A nasty voice in Remus' head pointed out that eighteen was only five years younger than twenty-three). A body which wasn't even Tonks'? A body she had in fact copied from somebody else? _Stolen_ from someone else?

"I don't know," said Remus, sounding slightly more annoyed than he wanted to.

"Honestly Remus, are you sure you're not gay?" she scoffed.

He had no idea what to say to that. Tonks laughed and grew her breasts larger. It made Remus' skin crawl. The beautiful busty girl winked at him, flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder, stood up and sauntered over to the bar, hips swaying above willowy legs. She didn't even trip over. Remus concentrated on running his thumb into the grooves on the table so he didn't have to watch what was happening at the bar. The idea of Tonks flirting with another man didn't bother him much- he'd seen the way she looked at the Muggle boys on the street- but the fact that she was so casual about what was essentially committing identity theft did. Mostly Remus liked the way she bamboozled him and made him question everything he took for granted. But he disapproved of her being this brazen- although that was _his_ fault, not hers. He was too old and too boring. Tonks could date plenty of men who'd reckon that her disguising herself as a beautiful French teenager was hilarious and cool.

"Free, both of them, thank you Miss Delacour," announced a voice. Remus looked up to see the blonde girl holding a pint of beer and a bright orange cocktail and wearing a smug expression which looked at home on the beautiful face.

Tonks dumped both glasses on the table and sat down, grinning. She clinked their glasses and took a long gulp of whatever was in hers. Remus watched her thoughtfully, not realising how long the silence was until she demanded suddenly, "What are you thinking about?"

They said that each other that often, and Remus could never believe that she was interested in his answers. Hers were always more interesting- she'd be thinking about some anecdote from school, gossip from the Ministry, or a bizarre fact she'd learnt somewhere. Or she'd just say, "Buffaloes" or "Majorca" and then go back to thinking about it. Or she'd look him in the eye and say, "You".

"Nothing really," Remus muttered, sighing.

"Tell me,"

"Just…beer," he lied.

"What about it?". Remus doubted she was actually interested. She just liked asking questions.

"I used to like bitter when I was younger, now I like larger more. Ironic," he mumbled, attempting to smile.

"My uncle's always on at my dad to give up beer. He won't do it though," Tonks rattled on.

"Hmm,"

"I told you my uncle's on this health kick now, didn't I? He doesn't eat carbs after ten in the morning or something daft like that,"

"Right,"

"And salads that are basically grass,"

"Yes,"

"And he's also a yellow elephant from Morocco named Captain Hammock,"

"Okay," Remus shrugged.

"You're not listening," Tonks retorted, her tone yanking Remus out of his thoughts.

"What?"

"You're not listening to me. What's up?"

"Nothing,"

"Are you sure?"

Remus looked at the beautiful girl uncomfortably. "Can you go back to the face you had before? It's…strange to be here with her," he asked.

"Course,"

Tonks pulled her hood up and covered her face with her hands, taking them away a few moments later to reveal the curly-haired freckly woman again.

"Better?"

"Yes. Thanks,"

"D'you know what I like about you? You'd prefer to be seen hanging out with this old lady rather than some beautiful French girl,"

"Well, you know why that is," Remus sighed.

"Yeah, cos you're interesting,"

She said it without missing a beat, as if she actually believed it. Of all the things which befuddled Remus about his girlfriend, that was the most bamboozling. But, since he knew that one day Tonks would grow out of this madness, it was also the thing about her which was the most depressing.

* * *

"Well, concluding thoughts?" Tonks asked, kicking her feet up on the arm of the sofa and taking a sip of tea (she was going to spill it, he could tell).

"Was alright," Remus shrugged, dropping into the armchair.

Tonks looked at him shrewdly over the top of her mug. "You didn't like it, did you?"

Her tone was direct and there wasn't a hint of disappointment in it. If anything, that made it worse. What was he supposed to tell her- that the whole experience had given him an encyclopaedia's more proof that this relationship was unfair on her, that they weren't right for each other, that she'd lose interest him in, that he was only causing himself pain in the long-run? This whole thing was stupid.

"Remus?"

"Well, I…I was nervous,"

"Merlin, really? That wasn't obvious at all," Tonks drawled sarcastically, "Are you going to tell me you were distracted today too, because that's going to blow my mind,"

"I'm sorry," he muttered. He wasn't sure if her teasing was friendly or angry, but even if she was kidding him she was right.

"You don't deserve this," Remus added. But she'd end things with him soon anyway, so she could move on and date somebody ordinary who she could actually go out and have fun with. Remus concentrated on his mug and, silently, sipped his tea.

"You tried it at least, though," Tonks prompted gently after a long pause, "It means a lot that you'd do something like this for me,"

He sighed. "Right,"

"I mean it. Look, not to bring it up again but this is why I don't care who pays for what, because you _do_ things. I know you're paranoid, but we tried it, didn't we?"

She put her tea down (half of it spilled on the carpet), came over to Remus and leaned on the arm of the chair.

"Alright, I don't deserve this, because you're so bloody special and I don't deserve you". She said a lot of ridiculous things, but this was surely the most. But Remus didn't want to look like he was fishing for compliments, so he shrugged and looked at his knees. Tonks caught his chin in one hand and tipped his face up to hers.

"And unless you've got any other girlfriends squirreled away somewhere, you'll have to take it from me that you're a really, _really_ great boyfriend. Understand?"

She was so lovely, even when she said crazy things like that. _Especially_ when she said crazy things like that.

"I understand," he lied. It was difficult not to smile when she was touching him and grinning at him and being so unrealistically sweet.

"Good," said Tonks. She dived forward for a kiss, moving her hand up to cup Remus' jaw. The fact that she _wanted_ to kiss him still flabbergasted him. It didn't just feel good, it felt _right._ That rightness was shameful to admit, but it was also wonderful. Tonks pulled away, then reconsidered and leaned in again for another kiss (she couldn't stop- his mind boggled) and asked, "Better?"

She drummed her fingers on the side of Remus' face. She was grinning at him with that mischievous smile and that mad Black glint in her eye. She was so alluring, so attractive. Remus tried not to think like that too often (he knew her when she was seven, so it was creepy even before you counted the werewolf in the room) but it was difficult when she touched him and kissed him and had that look on her face.

"Why do we have to go out when we could stay in doing this?" Remus pointed out.

Tonks cocked an eyebrow sceptically. "Because you're bloody weird about this too, you moron,"

"You may have a point,"

" _But_ you are _still_ an amazing boyfriend, right?" she insisted, gripping his shoulder.

Remus leaned up to kiss her so he didn't have to reply, but she put a hand up to his mouth to stop him.

"Nope, you're not getting away that easy. Agree that you're an amazing boyfriend,"

"Fine," he said, rolling his eyes as he deflected the question.

Tonks twisted her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck and pulled gently. It should have hurt, but nothing hurt when she looked at him with that dreamy, teasing expression. "Say you agree,"

 _No. I'm a useless boyfriend. You're very sweet but you're very incorrect, and from today's events I conclude that you know that already._ "Alright, I agree,"

And again, what should have felt wrong felt inexplicably right. Tonks let go of his hair, pecked his cheek and leaned into his chest. "Thank you for today," she murmured.

Remus wrapped his arms around her back and, to avoid pointing out that it was him who should be thanking her, muttered, "That's okay,"

Surely she wasn't comfortable, kneeling on the floor and with the chair's arm sticking into her stomach, but she stayed there for a while, solid against him, breathing against his neck. This extraordinary woman who threw his world upside-down every day. It would be over soon, he reminded himself. But when Tonks murmured that she had to get home, kissed him goodbye, then stood up, grabbed a handful of Floo powder and disappeared into the fire, Remus found that he was still smiling.


	3. Dead

**Set after _HBP_ Ch29 ****_The Phoenix Lament_** **.**

Dead

Dumbledore is dead. Dumbledore is dead. She should be thinking about this, because Dumbledore is dead and a world without him is a chaotic and dangerous one. It is unprecedented. What are the Order without Dumbledore? Dumbledore is dead.

She should be thinking about Harry. How Harry watched him die. How Harry has lost yet another father figure. How scared and bewildered Harry must have been. How the Order had failed yet again to protect him. They couldn't defend him when Dumbledore was alive and was with him, so what chance do they have now? He's determined and fierce and he knows that it's his neck on the line, but he's sixteen years old. And now he's been left with whatever information Dumbledore gave him to use to defeat the darkest wizard of all time.

Tonks should be thinking about the battle on the tower. Curses everywhere, Amycus Carrow taunting Ginny, the terror on Ron's face, Snape charging past them all, the killing curse missing Remus by an inch, the cramped the stairwell and the sweat, yelping and swearing as curses flashed through the dark.

She should be thinking about how much Harry's friends risk for him. These teenagers are incredible. Ginny dodging the Carrows' curses again and again- she must have been exhausted but she was fighting for her life.

She should be thinking about Remus and how embarrassed he must be by her shouting like that in front of everybody. It was selfish and rude and unnecessary, and humiliated them both. He always hated people knowing about them, and now she'd blurted it out in front of the kids and flipping Professor McGonagall, over Bill's sickbed of all places. Remus is going to be so cross with her. He's going to think she's even more of a child than he does already.

She should be thinking of handsome and brave Bill; captain of the crew of Weasley boys, Egyptian curse-breaker, Charlie's cool big brother who got Head Boy. She should be thinking of him twitching on the floor while Greyback clawed at him, blood on both their faces. And in the hospital wing, looking gaunt and frail. Madam Pomfrey had done her best to heal his injuries but there's going to be bad scarring.

She should be thinking about Molly and Arthur, who have been so kind to her the last few months. Disasters have happened to their children again and again- Ginny and the Chamber, Ron being poisoned and now Bill, on top of Arthur being bitten by the snake last year.

She should be thinking about Fleur, who didn't care about werewolf bites either. ("Contamination", Remus had called it, as if it was medical and not a violent attack. As if being a werewolf makes him dirty and poisonous). Fleur had snapped at Mrs Wealsey and taken the ointment and insisted that Bill's scars were a mark of bravery. She had snarled that she was beautiful enough for both of them and that it was a good job Bill was marrying a Frenchwoman because they're better at cooking rare meat than the English. It was difficult to tell if she was joking about these, although Tonks doubts it. Fleur isn't much of a joker and the moment had been filled with pride and devotion.

She should be thinking of Bill and she is, sort of. She's thinking about his bloodied face and his scars and how he lay still and battered in his hospital bed. She's thinking about how if a non-transformed werewolf can that to a man in his twenties, what an Earth could the real thing do to a four-year-old boy? Did kid that age understand of what was happening or was it only pain and terror? What was the bleeding and scaring like on a body of that size? How had they healed? And how could anybody, _anybody_ do that to a child? Remus' scar is a mark not of his bravery but of Greyback's hatred and revenge. How had Remus managed months of living the same space as the man- the animal- who had done that to him? Bitten him as a tiny child and given his this curse which has ruined his life? Tonks has never wanted to be with him more. She needs to be holding him tight in her arms, and if he doesn't want her anymore then she doesn't care- _somebody_ needs to protect and care for and love him.

He was four.

Until this moment, Tonks realises, she did not truly understand what evil was.


	4. Visiting

**This chapter is set shortly after Teddy's birth in April of _Deathly_ _Hallows._ The book remains unclear about if the Weasleys and the Order know that the Trio are staying at Shell Cottage at this time, although in this chapter I'm assuming that they don't. Surely if the Weasleys did know where the Trio were staying they'd be over in a heartbeat? So my headcanon for this chapter is that Lupin has told Tonks and Andromeda about the whereabouts of the Trio, but they aren't letting on to everybody else.**

Visiting

It had been a strange year. But perhaps the strangest thing was the sight in front of Ginny right now- Professor Lupin wearing a baby.

"Hello," he chirped, holding out a hand to help Ginny out of the fireplace (why did men always do that?), "Good to see you, Ginny,"

"Is this him?" Ginny demanded, peaking into the sling Lupin was wearing across his chest.

Professor Lupin beamed, "This is Teddy,"

Before Ginny could get a better look, Mum came whizzing into the fireplace behind her, and squealed when she saw Lupin.

"Goodness, here he is, little Teddy. I've bought some clothes and a- oh, let me see him!"

"Where's Tonks?" Ginny asked, craning around.

"Asleep. Andromeda's just gone up to fetch her,"

"How is she? How was it? Oh, look at the little mite!" Mum crowed. Lupin smiled again and gently lifted the baby out of the sling. Teddy was tiny and pink, with a streak of blue hair across the top of his head. He was sleeping and still.

"Oh, Remus," Mum breathed, "What an angel,"

"Yes," Lupin agreed quietly, "He is,"

Ginny peered closer. "He's really cute," she said, "Look at his little nose,"

"Is he a Metamorph-whatsit?" asked Mum.

"We think so. Dora's thrilled about it,"

He sometimes called her Dora, which was totally weird. To be honest, Ginny reckoned, a lot of things about the two of them were weird, most of all the fact that they had had a _baby,_ a whole human, in the time since Ron, Harry and Hermione had been away. And now at long last here _was_ the baby, brittle and breathing and asleep in Lupin's arms.

"He's beautiful," Ginny added.

"Yeah, kid's going to be a total heartbreaker," said Tonks' voice. She was leaning in the doorway wearing scruffy jeans and one of Lupin's jumpers, looking as if she had just woken up. Ginny leapt across the room hug her tightly.

"Oh my God, congratulations!"

"Thanks, Gin,"

"I can't believe it. You had it, you actually _had the baby,"_ Ginny marvelled, gripping her tightly.

"I actually had the baby. Bloody horrible it was too, Merlin knows how you did it seven times, Molly," Tonks said, as Mum came over to hug her too. Ginny glanced over at Professor Lupin, who had sat down on the sofa and was watching them all happily, with the baby lying across his lap.

"Let's see him," Ginny said, kneeling down to inspect the new arrival. She wasn't sure who she wanted to talk to more- Tonks, Lupin or the baby.

"You can hold him if you like," Lupin offered.

"Be careful, Ginny," barked Mum from over Tonks' shoulder, displaying her uncanny knack for telling you off for something even when she wasn't even looking at you.

"I know," Ginny retorted.

"He'll be fine, he lived inside _me_ for nine months so he's used to bumping into things," Tonks shrugged. She detached herself from Mum and came over to perch on the arm of the sofa, draping an arm around Lupin's shoulder. Ginny had never seen her do that before. They weren't coupley at all, which was a relief considering how disgusting Bill and Fleur were. Mum and Dad were pretty cringey together too. It was one of the things which had irritated Ginny about Dean- he'd been touchy-feely, whereas things with Harry were more natural. (Well, apart from their first kiss being in packed common room, and all the times Ginny had wound Ron up by snogging or cuddling Harry in front of him. She missed that). Lupin and Tonks were so discreet about their relationship that it had been easy to forget that they were together, especially before the bump started showing. The bump, who was now an _actual person_ , swaddled in the blanket Mum had knitted for him weeks ago. Lupin scooped Teddy up off his knees and passed slowly him over to Ginny.

"Have you got him?"

"Yeah,"

Ginny hadn't held a baby in years, not since Dad's cousin Betty had given birth to baby Martha four years ago. It had been the Christmas after Tom and the Chamber, and stroking baby Martha's hands had made Ginny feel exonerated, a bit, from how bad she had been that year.

"Make sure you support the head," Mum barked. Ginny was about to retort, but helpfully Tonks' mum chose that moment to appear in the doorway and Mum was distracted by squealing her congratulations at the new grandmother.

"Hi, Teddy," said Ginny softly looking down at the little bundle of human, "Hi, baby,"

He was heavier than she'd been expecting. His weight was comfortable.

"I can't believe you're actually here," Ginny whispered, "We've been excited for you. We didn't think you'd be here this soon,"

"Twelve days early. Think he just couldn't wait to see the world," said Tonks proudly.

"Or perhaps he was making up for his mother's lifetime of being late for things," added Lupin. Tonks flicked his ear.

Teddy wriggled in his sleep, and his eyes fluttered open.

"Here we go," muttered Tonks' mum, wincing, but the baby didn't cry. He stared up at Ginny with his shining dark eyes. Nobody said anything for a few moments.

"He likes you," said Tonks eventually, "He's saying 'Hi, Auntie Ginny',"

"Hello, Teddy," Ginny repeated, "Cool hair,"

"I know, it's awesome, isn't it? I'm proper chuffed about it,"

"He looks more like you, though," Ginny told Lupin.

"Everybody's telling me that," he said, "I can't see it myself,"

He was leaning against Tonks' side while she rubbed her hand across his shoulders and back.

"Oh, he is," Mum chipped in, "He's got your look about him,"

"Black eyes though, right Mum?" said Tonks.

"Yes," Tonks' mum corroborated. She paused, then added, "They're like Sirius',"

Ginny saw Mrs Tonks and Lupin exchange a thoughtful look. It had never occurred to Ginny before that the two of them had that in common. Mum, unsurprisingly, had no ear for subtlety and ploughed on, "How much did he weigh?"

"Bang on seven," said Tonks.

"Good healthy size," said Mum. Ginny stopped listening- she didn't need to hear Mum rattle off how much all seven of Ginny and her brothers weighed, measured and how late or early they all were. Andromeda went to make a pot of tea, and Tonks dropped a kiss to the top of Lupin's head before coming to sit on the other side of Ginny.

"What do you reckon?" she asked.

"He's amazing," Ginny said, beaming up at her, "You had the baby. This is your _actual_ child,"

"I know. Mental, isn't it?"

"What's giving birth like. Is it as bad as people say?"

"Worse. _The_ worst thing I've ever gone through, including weekend missions with Dawlish. Would a million per cent not recommend it. Baby's bloody fantastic though,"

They watched him in silence for a few moments. Teddy's eyes flickered shut again.

"I can't believe how good he's being for you," Tonks noted, "Think you've found yourself a fan,"

That made Ginny swell with pride.

"Does he cry a lot?" she asked.

"When he's hungry. Well, I reckon so, haven't worked out which cry is which and all that. Remus is good at it, obviously. I just stick my tit in his mouth and hope for the best,"

Ginny laughed, trying to keep Teddy steady in her arms.

Tonks yawned and added, "Teddy's mouth, I mean, not Remus'".

* * *

"…which means that George was the lightest overall, but because the twins were early, Percy was the lightest at his due date," Molly finished. It felt like yonks since she'd had anybody to talk to about her babies. With everything that was going on it was good to have something nice to talk about. She'd been looking forward to meeting Teddy for months.

"I see," said Remus, nodding. He seemed healthier than Molly had ever seen him. He'd put on weight this year, his hair wasn't so thin and there was more colour in his face. And, more than that, he looked completely over the moon. His pride in Tonks and the baby couldn't be more obvious.

"You seem thrilled," Molly told him.

Remus grinned, glanced sheepishly at the floor, then the window, and then back at Molly. "I am. I didn't think he would make me this happy. It's only been a few days, but I…" he tailed off, looking puzzled at himself for a moment before murmuring, "I don't have the words,"

Molly patted his arm. "The words will come,"

He smiled again and asked, "Would you like to hold him?"

"Of course," Molly half-yelped. She hadn't held a baby since Arthur's Betty's Martha a few years ago, and then she'd been so busy worrying about Ginny, who'd been fragile and traumatised back then. She'd clung on to Molly and hadn't spoken much, and when Betty asked her if she wanted to hold the baby Ginny hung her head and muttered that she thought she'd hurt Martha. Molly told her that she'd help her to keep Martha steady, and Ginny had mumbled in a tiny voice that she didn't deserve to do nice things like hold her baby cousin. Molly knew then that she would never forgive herself for not protecting her daughter. She'd sat Ginny on one knee and held the baby on the other, and coaxed Ginny into stroking Martha's little face and fingers. Ginny had smiled then, though only very slightly. Back in Andromeda's living room, Molly glanced over to her daughter. Ginny was chatting to Tonks, cradling Teddy stably in her arms. She looked almost as pleased as Remus did. She stroked her finger around the shell of Teddy's ear, and when she laughed, she kept the baby secure. She was content and in control. The timid and ashamed girl who had hadn't thought she deserved to touch baby Martha was gone.

"In a minute," said Molly.

* * *

Considering Teddy wasn't doing much, he was mesmerising to watch. He winkled his nose up and blew bubbles, and when Ginny touched his fingers he gripped tightly onto her hand. Tonks explained about how she and Lupin agreed on his name, and how horrible labour was, and what the first few days with Teddy had been like.

"We're three against one so we're all kind of getting some sleep, just not at night," she told Ginny, "Well, not me anyway, and Remus stays up with me during feeding, so we try to get a bit of sleep during the day. Having said that," she conceded, "I have literally no idea what day it is,"

"It's Thursday," Ginny supplied.

"Right," Tonks nodded. She glanced over at Mum, Professor Lupin and Mrs Tonks for a second, then said in a hushed voice, "You know I said he was being really good for you?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I'm glad he likes you," Tonks continued, "Because we're asking Harry to be godfather,"

Ginny was so surprised she almost dropped the baby. " _What?"_

"Shh, don't let your Mum hear," Tonks whispered, "We haven't told many people yet. It was Remus' idea and he's right, I don't think there's anyone better than Harry. And, look, none of us know what's going to happen, and I know things aren't easy between the two of you, but if it does work out for you like it did for us-"

"I can be his godmother?" Ginny finished excitedly. Merlin's pants. She hadn't expected this at all- she'd barely thought about Teddy having godparents, and she was only sixteen…. _godmother,_ really?

"Yeah," grinned Tonks.

"Oh my God, _thank you,"_

Harry will be chuffed, Ginny thought. Baffled (had he ever even held a baby before?), but chuffed. Lupin and Tonks must have believed that he was out there and he'd come home one day, and Ron and Hermione too. They'd finish whatever it was they were doing, and they would _win._ They'd win and Teddy would be safe.

He would, Ginny knew it. He had a godson to be there for now.

Tonks tickled Teddy's toes. _"_ You'll have to ask your boyfriend when he turns up again, but I think Teddy likes the idea".

* * *

The baby needed changing after a while, and Remus leapt up to take him into the bathroom. Molly watched him chatter to Teddy as he walked out of the room.

"It's wonderful to see him so pleased," she said.

"Yes," agreed Andromeda, although she didn't sound like she'd been listening. Molly had got the impression over the last few months that Andromeda had become more accepting of Remus- he'd lived under her roof for half a year, after all- but Remus was always cagey about the subject when Molly brought it up, and Andromeda could be haughty and cutting. Moreover, the birth of the baby so soon after her husband had died must have been overwhelming.

Molly cleared her throat nervously. "And how are you feeling?" she asked.

The other woman took her time before answering. "Tired," she said eventually, "There's been a lot of change very quickly,"

"Yes," agreed Molly.

"It's very difficult that Ted isn't here to see it". Andromeda's voice was factual, and she didn't sound tearful.

"Yes. That must be incredibly hard. Did he like children?"

"Very much," said Andromeda, then added after a pause, "Though not as much as Arthur, I dare say,"

When Molly met her eyes, she was relieved to see that Andromeda was smiling.

"He's been very good to Remus recently," Andromeda continued, "You both have, to both of them,"

"It's no trouble," Molly insisted. She'd enjoyed knitting blankets and advising them how to prepare for the baby. Arthur had shown Remus how to assemble a cot and change a nappy, and Molly had donated boxes of the babygrows, cardigans and booties which had been cluttering up the attic since Ginny grew out of them. The old baby bath Molly used to use was now a mop-bucket, and the dummies had been lost of chewed up, but she'd given Tonks the Moses basket, a box of bottles, and some toys which survived the twins' roughhousing. She was proud to recognise that the booties Teddy was wearing as ones she had knitted for Percy.

Remus reappeared in the doorway. He'd tucked the baby neatly back into the sling- Teddy was only four days old but already Remus seemed like a professional baby-handler.

"You _can_ hold him in a minute, Molly," he promised, "Just let me get him to sleep,"

"Is he a good sleeper?" Molly asked.

Andromeda and Remus looked at each other. "Sometimes," said Andromeda.

"Afternoons yes, nights no," added Remus.

Tonks, who Molly had thought was busy chatting to Ginny, piped up, "He sleeps better when Remus is there,"

"I've told her that it's coincidence," Remus explained. His sheepishness was unconvincing.

"No, it isn't," insisted Tonks, "Teddy loves his daddy,"

"Because he spoils him," sighed Andromeda.

Molly expected Tonks to argue, but instead she chirped, "Totally," and went back to her conversation with Ginny.

"Remus can't keep his hands off him, Molly, he's setting Teddy up to be a clingy child," Andromeda explained, but she was smiling again.

"He's four days old," Remus protested.

"Still," Andromeda huffed.

"What do you reckon, Molly?" asked Remus.

"Molly's got seven children, she doesn't have time to coddle them," Andromeda interrupted.

"Lucky me, then," said Remus.

"You won't be saying that when he's eight and still won't sleep in his own bed," warned Andromeda.

But they were both grinning at each other and it was clear neither of them took their squabbling seriously. Whatever animosity Andromeda had held towards Remus appeared to have thawed, and Remus didn't seem remotely intimidated or self-conscious in front of Andy Black.

Molly had never been so pleased to see a man bicker with his mother-in-law.

* * *

Once Teddy fell asleep, Lupin handed him over to Mum then took his camera off the mantelpiece.

"He keeps taking photos," Tonks explained unnecessarily, "He's drawn him a couple of times too, it's so cute,"

Lupin must have heard, because he glanced round and winked at Tonks before taking a couple of paces back to get everybody on the sofa in-shot. He took photos of Mum holding Teddy, Ginny and Mum with Teddy, Ginny with Tonks, Mum and Mrs Tonks and the baby. It reminded Ginny of second-year Defence, when he'd explained how to handle pixies. That was the year Martha had been born, Ginny remembered. It was a long time ago now. Lupin had had the same steady composedness in the Order as he'd had as a teacher, although as far as Ginny could tell he'd been much more skittish when it came to Tonks. Being a werewolf, he probably didn't have much experience of falling love. He'd played the Harry "I'm so dangerous, you can't possibly come near me," Potter card with Tonks for most of Ginny's fifth year- Tonks had told Ginny about it, although Ginny had been sworn to secrecy. Once they unexpectedly announced they were getting married, Ginny thought that things had turned out okay for them (it had been only days after Harry split up with her, so although it hurt like hell to see Tonks so elated, it gave Ginny a bit of hope that things might work out the same with way with Harry), but they'd had another big argument not long after the wedding. The Ministry had just fallen and Harry, Ron and Hermione had disappeared, but even amongst all that everyone had been able to tell something was wrong between Tonks and Lupin. Tonks' caginess had hurt a bit- they were supposed to be friends, and Ginny had told her all about what had happened with Harry. Tonks had told her what had happened with Professor Lupin the year before so Ginny couldn't understand what had changed. Perhaps that was stupid- everything had changed and You-Know-Who was in power, Ron, Harry and Hermione were gone and the Order were clutching at straws. Although Ginny couldn't be hurt now that Lupin and Tonks had made Harry godfather. She couldn't help smiling again, thinking about what a gift it was, and how pleased and befuddled Harry would be when he found out. Yet another reason she couldn't wait to see him.

"We need some with you in, Remus," Mum pointed out. She held her hand out (Mrs Tonks was holding the baby), "I'll take some,"

That would be a bad idea. "Mum's hopeless with cameras, I'll do it," Ginny offered. Lupin handed her the camera and Ginny stood up to take a few photos of the four adults and Teddy.

"Even Posh and Becks' future kid won't have this many photos taken of it," said Tonks, grinning at Lupin, who'd gone to sit beside her.

"Who?" Mum piped up.

"Famous Muggles," shrugged Tonks.

"That's because their baby won't be as beautiful as ours," said Lupin.

Tonks fingered the button on his cuff, "No, it wont be,"

This lovey-dovey stuff was cute but getting increasingly weird. Tonks didn't seem to have noticed that her husband had been abducted and replaced with a new and much smilier version. (Ginny couldn't voice that out loud, otherwise Mum would snap that those sorts of jokes weren't funny nowadays. Ginny made a note to tell Fred and George later instead).

"Take one of all of us," chirped Tonks.

"How?"

"It's got self-timer, that button on the left,"

"Oh yeah," said Ginny, fiddling for it. She pressed the button, which made a pair of wings flick out of each side of the camera.

"It stays there in the air and gives you five seconds to get into place," Lupin explained in his teacher voice. Being godmother to Tonks' kid was awesome, Ginny thought, although being godmother to Professor Lupin's baby was bizarre. Her friends were going to be so confused. Colin was going to absolutely die- he'd loved Professor Lupin back in second-year.

"Take the photo, Ginny," prompted Mum.

"I _am._ Is everybody ready?" Ginny asked.

"Yes," chorused the four of them.

"Mum, budge up so I can run in next to you," said Ginny, "No, further than that. Okay- one, two three-"

She clicked the button and let the camera go. Its wings kept it hovering in mid-air. Ginny dashed over to the sofa and squashed herself in beside Mum, who was asking how many seconds until the picture took (she was utterly hopeless sometimes). Tonks reached over to squeeze Ginny's hand.

"Teddy with his family," she said, as the camera flashed.

* * *

 **A big THANK YOU to everybody who has read this story. An extra thanks to all reviewers- it makes my day when I get an email telling me someone has been kind enough to take the time to give feedback on this fic. Thank you all so much.**


	5. JustWerewolfThings

**Warnings for language and sex, though nothing major. Hope you enjoy.**

#JustWerewolfThings

 **July**

"You. In here. Now," growls Mad-Eye, prodding Tonks into the scullery and shutting the door behind them. She winces- he only addresses people as "you" if he's cross with them.

She tries to make light of his abruptness. "At least buy me dinner first,"

"Lupin," he states, folding his arms.

She wasn't expecting that. "What about him?"

"Don't play stupid with me, you're not stupid," Mad-Eye says impatiently.

"No, I just have no idea what you're on about," Tonks retorts.

"Show me your hand,"

Tonks huffs and holds both her palms up for inspection. There's a plaster peeling from her left-hand index finger where she'd cut it on a chipped plate when helping Molly with the washing-up earlier. Mad-Eye takes Tonks' hand in his and rips off the plaster. Hard.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Lupin's still around and you're going to go out there and speak to him," Mad-Eye orders.

"Why?"

"I saw that with the plaster earlier. He was trying to help you, but you wouldn't let him because of the bleeding,"

 _Damn that magical eye,_ Tonks groans inwardly.

"He won't start trying to eat you because he smells a bit of blood," Mad-Eye snipes, "Any stupid suspicions you've got in your head about werewolves, you need to forget about. He's as human as the rest of us,"

"Well, technically not _quite,"_ she can't resist pointing out.

"Technically my arse. You've heard that werewolves like kids, I suppose- does he look like he's going to bite any of the Weasley brats?"

"No," she admits.

"No. So if I catch you looking at him funny, or not wanting him to see blood, or dousing yourself in mercury on your way into this house, I'll have Kingsley put you in charge of his paperwork backlog for the rest of the year," Mad-Eye threatens.

"Okay, I get it," Tonks huffs. She hates it when Mad-Eye gets all don't-mess-with-me on her, "I've only met, you know, _savage_ werewolves before. Haven't sat down to dinner with one,"

"Get used to it," Mad-Eye snarls. He crumples the plaster in his hand and barges back through the door, leaving Tonks standing in the scullery alone.

* * *

 **August**

"What d'you need doing, Molly?" Tonks chirps, following Mrs Weasley into the kitchen. Molly Weasley is _brilliant._ She's mum to everyone in the Order, she makes awesome cakes, and she winds Sirius up something rotten. Kingsley insists that their rivalry isn't anything to be laughed at, but Tonks finds it amusing, especially as Sirius always needs taking down a peg or two. Lots has changed since he went to Azkaban, but that hasn't.

"Could you put these in an arrangement on the table," Molly suggests, pointing to a tray cutlery, "We're not having a sit-down meal tonight,"

"Right, got it,"

"But _be careful,_ Tonks," warns Molly, "This is Sirius' best family silverware,"

"You know he won't care about that," Tonks points out, as Mrs Weasley hands her the tray. It's creaky and splintery, and Tonks curls her fingers so that she's carrying the tray on her knuckles instead of her palms.

" _He_ might not but my father would have bent his broomstick to see this sort of thing," Molly says shortly.

"I thought your dad was one of us?" Tonks asks.

"One of what?"

"A Black,"

Molly doesn't say anything and busies herself checking on the onions. Tonks suspects she might have put her foot in her mouth, so changes the subject: "Still, tonight deserves best silverware, doesn't it? You must be chuffed about Ron getting prefect,"

"Some good news at last," Molly beams, "I always knew he had it in him. He looked so surprised about it, he's such a sweet boy; he never expects anything. He's used to playing second-fiddle to Harry and Hermione and he doesn't want to show off in front of them, but I know he's proud of himself. He deserves it..." she bustles back into the kitchen, chuntering away merrily about her youngest son.

Tonks sets a couple of knives down on the table, then the forks beside them, wondering what sort of "arrangement" cutlery should go in for a party. It'll be a relief not to be all crammed in round the dinner table, but artistic table-design isn't really her forte.

"Hello," says a familiar deep voice from the door way. Kingsley's there, with Sirius and Remus behind him.

"Ron and Hermione prefects, that's excellent news," smiles Remus, looking up at the banner above the table. Kingsley, however, frowns. Sirius' lip curls disgruntledly.

"Say that again when Molly's in earshot, she'll probably kiss your feet," Tonks recommends.

"I'd rather not," sighs Sirius. He turns and stalks back through the door. Kingsley and Remus grimace at each other.

"What's up with him?" Tonks asks. She'd expected Sirius to be pleased about the party and excited for Ron and Hermione. And he'll have a laugh at Molly's hysterics.

"He's not looking forward to everybody going back to school tomorrow," says Remus patiently, "Especially Harry. I'll talk to him,"

He goes to follow Sirius out of the room, but Kingsley interrupts, "You're always dealing with him, Remus. Let me,"

Remus considers, then nods in acquiesce.

"See you later," Kingsley says, and leaves through the door.

Remus puts his hands in his pockets and a slightly awkward silence settles. Tonks has been trying to be nice to him after the whole blood thing a few weeks ago. He's always got a book on him, so she asks him what it is, or how he's doing today. Sometimes she badgers him for gossip about Sirius when he was younger. It turns out that Remus is quite a laugh when you get to know him; he's witty and self-deprecating, the kids all like him and he doesn't bang on about The Last Time like the other first-Order members do. Tonks is starting to see him less as The Werewolf Man and more as just Remus. It feels more of the elephant in the room when they're alone together though- she thinks he thinks she's thinking about it, and then she _is_ thinking about it. Alone together with only the dining table between them, Tonks can't help remember that last week Remus had scabs on his hands and a graze on his cheek. Everybody had determinedly ignored his injuries, but Tonks couldn't resist a second glance at his cut hands, and Remus had caught her looking. In the moment their eyes had met she'd wanted to splutter and apology, but everybody else was talking, and there was more resignation than hurt in Remus' expression. As if he was thinking, _of course._

Tonks suspects he might be remembering it now so she announces loudly, "Help me out, will you? I'm meant to be arranging this artistically,"

"How?" Remus asks.

"Dunno, that's the problem. How can knives be artistic?"

"Have you thought of putting them in something?"

"In what?"

"There's lots of jars and vases here we could try," he suggests. It doesn't escape Tonks' notice that the says 'we'. That's nice, like they're in this artistic-cutlery-placement mission together.

"Hold on," Remus says, disappearing through the door. Tonks waits for a minute until he returns, with a small jar in each hand and one under his arm. Remus puts them down on the table beside her, takes a handful of cutlery from the tray and plunges it into the vase.

"That's better, isn't it?" he asks, holding up the jar. It's hardly beautiful but it's better than anything Tonks could have come up with and it looks a bit modern-arty. Rustic, her mum might say.

"Yeah, actually," she admits, jamming another handful of knives and forks into the second vase, and rattling it to fit them in. "Sirius didn't look too happy about Ron and Hermione getting prefect," she observes aloud.

"He's concerned about Harry,"

"That's all anybody does round here isn't it, be concerned about Harry," Tonks remarks.

It comes out too bitter because Remus asks, "Don't you like him?" and sounds mildly insulted.

"No, I didn't mean _that_ ," Tonks replies hurriedly, "Of course I like him","

And it's true: Harry's in a bit of an awkward-teenage-boy phase, but he's fun, he's got a dry sense of humour and he can take a joke.

"I'm just saying," she continues, "Maybe having everybody worried about him isn't doing him any favours,"

Remus leans his back against the table and sighs, "Perhaps not. I understand why Dumbledore would make Ron prefect instead of Harry, but I can see the argument that the other two having something Harry doesn't might make him unsure of himself, which isn't what he needs at the moment. The three of them are very close," he adds. Remus is good at reading people like this, she's noticed. Intuitive. Caring.

"Yeah, maybe," Tonks shrugs, "But I'm sure he'll be fine. Might be good for him to have some _normal_ teenage stuff to worry about for once. Anyway, where's the fun in being a prefect?"

"You can use the nice bathrooms," Remus suggests, adjusting one of the forks in the vase, "And you can keep the things you confiscate,"

"You were one, then?"

"Yes. I had about fifteen Flying Frisbees by the end of fifth year,"

"Speaking of confiscating, don't let Mundungus know that this is Sirius' best silver," Tonks recommends. As the last word leaves her mouth, a terrible thought rams into her brain.

"Silver! I- you- _put it down now!"_

"Pardon?" asks Remus.

Tonks leans over to bat his hand away from the cutlery in the vase. "I'm sorry, I totally didn't realise-"

She rushes round the table to examine his hand, unfolding his fingers with hers and gabbling, "I've got Dittany in my robe pocket if you need-"

"Tonks," Remus interrupts, "What are you talking about?"

"It's _silver._ You can't touch it, can you? I'm _so_ sorry,"

Remus pulls his hand out of her grasp, smiles gently, picks up the fork again and runs the side of it over his palms and wrists. He touches it to his face then mimes stabbing himself in the heart.

"It's fine. See? Perfectly fine," he assures her.

Tonks tries not to look overly relieved. Was that panic stupid? "Oh," she mutters, "Sorry for scaring you,"

"That's alright. Thank you for your concern,"

She thinks for a moment that Remus might be being sarcastic, but he's still looking at her with that gentle smile so she isn't sure. Sometimes he's very difficult to work out.

"That's an old wives' tale, then?" she clarifies.

"Yes. There's plenty of rumours about werewolves," Remus says, picking up the cutlery jar Tonks knocked over when she ran around the table, "Very few of them are true, you know".

* * *

 **November**

"Thanks Dawlish. Fantastic work, ten points to Gryffindor for that," Tonks huffs, crawling out of the ditch behind the older Auror.

"Don't you two start," Glossop snaps at them, "We're in enough shit, _literally,_ as it is, without you two bickering,"

Glossop shoves her hands in her pockets and watches as Tonks hauls herself back onto the bank. Dawlish attempts to wipe cowpat off his sleeve with the bottom of his robe and then, grimacing, decides against it. Tonks folds her arms tightly and doesn't look at him.

"We'd best head back," Glossop announces.

"Proudfoot is going to _kill_ us," says Tonks through gritted teeth.

"She's already cross with me about that Potion catastrophe with Emnisovic last week," sighs Dawlish.

"You know, you really don't help yourself," Tonks tells him.

"Not all of us are sucking off Mad-Eye Moody, so _we_ have to fix our own messes," Dawlish spits.

She grabs him by his collar. "What did you just say?"

Glossop rolls her eyes. "Dawlish, how old are you, twelve? And Tonks, let go of him,"

With a glare, Tonks releases her grip on Dawlish's collar. He's always been an idiot but he's driving her nuts at the moment. He constantly sniggers about what a crackpot Dumbledore is and how Harry Potter is deranged. _As if Dawlish knows anything about it,_ Tonks thinks irritably.

The three of them Apparate back to the Ministry and trudge upstairs to the Auror office. Tonks kneels down to ruffle the ears of the porcupine statue outside. After a few seconds he wriggles into life, reaches round to shove his paw into his spines, and withdraws the key. After the first door there's another, guarded by a portrait who'll only open the door if given an accurate floor-plan of the Auror office. Glossop sketches one hurriedly, and after a moment's deliberation the portrait lets them through. The final door requires a secret knock, which Dawlish bangs out hastily on the wood.

"This is going to be embarrassing," he sighs unnecessarily as the door swings open.

He's right- everyone in the room turns to look at the three Aurors in the doorway, muddied and damp and smelling strongly of animal excrement.

"What happened to _you?"_ giggles Savage.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Emnisovic drawls.

Tonks glowers at them. "Don't ask,"

Before anybody can say another word, Thetis Proudfoot appears out of her office door. Tonks winces. _As if this couldn't get any worse._

"What's all this?" Proudfoot asks the room. Her eyes narrow as she catches sigh of Tonks, Dawlish and Glossop.

"I can explain-" Dawlish pipes up, but Proudfoot cuts him off.

"I take it this afternoon's assignment went well," she says coldly.

"We made some progress," Tonks insists. This does nothing to thaw Proudfoot's displeasure.

"I'll give you thirty seconds to clean yourselves up and then I want you in here," she orders, pointing inside her office in a way which makes it clear that this isn't going to be an comfortable conversation. Silently, Tonks, Glossop and Dawlish perform _tergeo_ spells on themselves, making the mud seep away into nothingness.

"Glossop, catch," says Emnisovic, tossing a small bottle of perfume at them. Glossop spritzes herself, then hands it to Tonks who does the same. It isn't much, but it might improve the smell a bit.

"Would _you_ like some?" she asks Dawlish sweetly.

"No," he scowls.

"In here," Proudfoot interrupts, pointing through her office door. Tonks tries to catch Glossop's eye but Glossop stares straight ahead, chin thrust up defiantly. She leads the way into the office but before Tonks and Dawlish can follow, Kingsley Shacklebolt appears.

"Apologies, I need to borrow Tonks, please," he announces. Kingsley doesn't have a hasty or urgent setting, but his slightly-more-hurried-than-usual tone makes it clear that this is something important. Everybody turns around to face him.

"Does Mad-Eye need something handling?" Dawlish asks Kingsley innocently. Tonks ignores him.

"It's important," Kingsley adds, though still in the same cool tone.

Proudfoot considers for a moment, then gives Tonks a nod and says "Dismissed,"

Kingsley leads the way out of the office. Tonks knows him well enough not to say anything until they're in the secluded corner where Kingsley's Sirius-hunting maps and notes lay scattered over desks, and pinned to the wall. Kingsley pulls the wheeled blackboard in front of them so it's safe to talk without being observed. The blackboard's got a silencing charm around it to avoid eavesdroppers. It's their usual in-office spot for any Order discussions.

 _"Lifesaver._ We were about to get a right bollocking," Tonks grins at him.

Kingsley remains business-like. "We're needed urgently at Grimmauld," he explains.

Tonks had expected that. "What's happened?"

"I don't know. Sturgis, Remus, Hestia and Bill are coming too, and Mundungus if we're lucky,"

"Oh. Right," says Tonks, then adds hastily, "Can I pop home and have a shower then before we go?"

"Sorry, there's not time,"

"I'll be _five_ minutes," she promises.

"You look fine, most of the mud's gone," Kingsley says, smiling reassuringly. (His reassuring smile, bless him, is more awkward than consoling).

"But I _reek_ ," Tonks whines...and Remus is going to be there. Remus who, in the last couple of weeks, she's started think of as kind of cute. He's not conventionally or even noticeably handsome, but he's quite pretty if you look closely. She _has_ been looking closely. She likes Remus' curly hair and his gentle smile. She likes the patches on his clothes and the way he folds his shirt cuffs over the sleeves of his jumper. A few days ago Tonks bumped into him on the back porch at Grimmauld and he made her laugh a lot, although now she can't remember what he said that was so funny. She can't quite work him out, which makes him more fascinating. But more pressing _now_ is the fact that Sirius mentioned a while ago that being a werewolf means Remus has an excellent sense of smell- so no way is Tonks going to turn up stinking of shit. If she thinks too much about the werewolf thing Remus _does_ seem less cute, but the Tonks doesn't think of it much nowadays. Nobody else in the Order mentions it much, and they get a stern look from Sirius if they do. (Remus' odd-couple act with Sirius is cute too. They're very protective of each other).

"Five minutes," Tonks pleads.

Kingsley glances at his silver watch, then back at her. Tonks knows that, when it comes to Kingsley, morphing her eyes huge and blue and watery won't help her case. _Come on Kingsley,_ she thinks, _We're mates. You know Mad-Eye would make me to go this meeting stinking. You don't want to be like that, do you?_ It's going to be mortifying if Remus sees her like this. This stupid accident would never happen to him. He's far too cool and controlled. He's also too controlled and cool for daft crushes like this, and he's older, and Tonks suspects he's beating for the other team anyway, and even if he isn't he's wouldn't be interested in her. So she knows it's all silly, but she still doesn't want to make an idiot on herself in front of him.

"Alright. I'll tell them we're held up here," Kingsley relents.

Tonks beams. "You're a legend, Kingsley. I owe you one,"

Maybe she'll regret in a few weeks, when this thing for Remus has burnt out and she's left covering Kingsley's Sirius-hunting work on a boring Friday evening. But that's not important at the moment. What's important is that she has to get home and get cleaned up, and she's seeing Remus.

"So they tell me. I'll see you in the Atrium in five minutes, no later," Kingsley adds.

Tonks gives him a thumbs-up him, and Apparates straight into her shower.

* * *

 **January**

"I'm worried about him," Molly announces.

"He'll come round," Remus answers patiently, "He's missing Harry,"

"Exactly. You know how he likes to show off to him, Remus- aren't you concerned he's going to do something rash?"

Remus half-smiles. "I'm always concerned he's going to do something rash,"

"And the drinking," Molly sighs, "He's getting as bad as Mundungus,"

"It's not _that_ much," Tonks protests, "It's not like he's a bottle down before breakfast". Sirius likes a drink but everyone's blowing it way out of proportion. Poor bastard's hardly got anything else to do, has he? He's upstairs right now, brooding, while Tonks, Molly, Remus and Emmeline chat around the kitchen table. Tonks is trying not too look at Remus too often, but her eyes aren't co-operating and insist on repeatedly flicking towards him.

"I agree with Tonks. Sirius' drinking habits aren't our most pressing concern at the moment," Remus corroborates.

"Realistically I don't think there's much we can do. We all know the reasons why he has to stay here. It's not ideal for anybody, but that's the situation so we'll all have to live with it, Sirius included," Emmeline continues briskly.

"Kingsley's telling the Ministry there's been a sighting in Nicaragua," Tonks adds. Mad-Eye says she gets too much satisfaction out of seeing Kingsley lie to the Ministry, but come on, one in the eye for Fudge is always something to smile about.

Molly glances at the clock. "When are you two leaving?"

"Ten past," Remus tells her. The Order are observing the Avery family's house nightly. Tonight it's Remus and Emmeline on duty. Tonks, whose guarding the Prophecy this evening, can't help but be jealous that Emmeline's getting to spend all evening with Remus, while she's stuck creeping around the Department of Mysteries. Last week Tonks got put on the Avery house watch with Remus and they had a long, fascinating talk, like they always do together, especially in their increasingly frequent chats on Grimmauld Place back porch. She had got close, that night at the Averys, to finally _telling_ him. To saying, _"I'm crazy about you and you're the most brilliant person I know and would you mind awfully if I said I wanted to kiss you"_. She'd thought at first that her infatuation towards him would fade away, but it didn't. It got stronger and more powerful- Merlin, it happened so _fast_ \- and it isn't a crush anymore because talking to him, looking at him, even thinking about him feels so _good._ She thinks she might be falling in love.

"What about you, Tonks?" Emmeline asks.

Auror training ensures that Tonks doesn't jump at the sudden distraction. "Half eight, so not for ages," she replies.

"I don't know how you do it, dear, a ten-hour day and night duty in the evening," Molly says.

Tonks shrugs. "Coffee,"

Everybody chuckles and she feels a prickle of pride that she's managed to make Remus laugh, like the one she felt a moment ago when he said he agreed with her about Sirius' boozing.

"Anyway, when we're done we go home to _bed_ , not to seven kids. You're definitely the hardest worker in the Order," adds Emmeline.

"It's not much now they're all at school," Molly says modestly.

"I've seen first-hand how many owls you get about the twins- it's full-time job just dealing with that," jokes Remus (Tonks reckons he's joking).

"You forget I was at school with your lot, Remus. James and Sirius probably had an owl sent home every day!" laughs Emmeline (she's older than Sirius and Remus, but younger than Tonks' parents. Even if Tonks hadn't known that she'd been Head Girl, she'd have been able to tell from her air of authority and efficiency).

Mentioning Sirius, though, sets Molly back to her fretting. "Don't you think that he hasn't quite grown out of that?" she asks, "He thinks he's re-living his teenage years through Harry?"

Remus stops grinning. "He's bored. With the greatest respect, Molly, I don't think he needs a psychiatric assessment".

Because Remus is usually very measured, when he does come out with something like that people listen. Tonks can't help but note that it's dead attractive. It works, too because Molly turns pink, drops her analysis of Sirius' mental state and blusters on: "Well, what he _does_ need is a shave. He's starting to look bedraggled,"

"And it covers up his gorgeous Black cheekbones," adds Emmeline, and when Molly gives her a funny look she shrugs, "You can't deny he's beautiful,"

He is; he always has been. Azkaban's made him gaunt and pale but there's no denying that Sirius is still extraordinarily goodlooking. And he's not over the hill either- he's the same age as Remus, which Tonks is constantly trying to convince herself isn't _that_ old. If things were different, Sirius could easily be out dating and enjoying himself putting those cheekbones to good use. Tonks is sure she can remember being a little kid and hearing Mum reprimanding Sirius for sleeping around, and Sirius scoffing that he was only having fun and not everyone married their Hogwarts sweetheart at nineteen. Tonks can picture young, breezy Sirius now, kicking his feet up on their kitchen table and rolling his eyes at her mother. He'd had a beard back then, she remembers.

"He used to wear his beard like that before he went to prison," Tonks murmurs.

"Yes, he did," chimes in Remus unexpectedly. He meets her eye with that small, melancholy smile, the smile that always makes her heart lurch. Sirius- and his imprisonment- connects her and Remus in a strange and miserable way. But Remus makes her feel less confused and angry about the whole thing. It's good to have someone to talk to about it who isn't her mother (Mum's never been easy to talk to about Sirius). Tonks hopes that she helps Remus in the same way, because he had _nobody_ to talk to the whole time Sirius was in Azkaban. Sometimes she's sure that she _is_ helping him and that he's feeling this connection too, and perhaps he's feeling other things as well...A couple of times she's caught Remus looking at her longer than people usually look at one another, and then there's those chats on the back porch when it's cold outside and he could be doing anything else but he's outside talking to _her…._

Molly and Emmeline are here at the kitchen table but they don't seem important. Tonks is caught in his gentle smile. His eyes are very, very kind. Sirius may cheekbones and eyelashes and a penchant for tight trousers, but he doesn't have those eyes. He doesn't have those adorable sticking-out ears or that throaty voice. He doesn't have Remus' patience, gentleness and grace.

"Did you, back then? Have a beard I mean," Tonks mumbles. _Were you as handsome then as you are now? Tell me about you. I want to more. I want to know everything._

Remus double-takes. "No".

Oh. Right. Tonks hadn't really cared about the answer but she's surprised at the bluntness of it. _No._ There's two options now, she supposes- change topic, or plough on. And she's never really been one to doge the subject.

"I think you'd look nice with one," she tells him, meeting his eye. She can feel herself getting hot, and wonders how people who can't change their faces possibly survive without being able to hide blushes.

When Remus replies, his voice is steady. "I don't especially like the feel of hair on my face,"

The admission hangs in the air for a moment. Remus' eyes flick away from her, and before Tonks can come up with a mortified reply, Molly speaks:

"You're right Remus, it's scruffy. Charlie's grown one now and Bill probably will too now he's back from Egypt. I don't see what the fuss is all about. It's five past six, you two had better get going," she adds.

"Good idea. Come on, Remus," Emmeline agrees, pushing her chair back getting to her feet. She unhooks her cloak from the back of the kitchen door and swings it around her shoulders.

Remus stands up, pulls on his battered beige overcoat and pockets the bundle of sandwiches Molly left on the table for them.

"Thanks for these," he adds.

"Not a problem, dear,"

Unexpectedly, he turns to Tonks. "Will you be here tomorrow?"

"Err. No, sorry. Friday, though," she mutters, taken aback by the question and trying not to trip over her words under his gaze. She isn't sure if she's imagining the slight disappointment on his face.

"Alright," he murmurs, "I'll see you then. I hope it's alright tonight,"

"Yeah. Cool,"

"See you later, Tonks," adds Emmeline, "Bye Molly- thanks again for the sandwiches,"

The two of them head out of the kitchen door. Tonks' unhelpful eyes again insist on lingering on Remus as he leaves, and for a few moments longer even once he and Emmeline have disappeared from sight.

Molly breaks the silence. "Are you in love with him?"

Tonks glances at her sharply and tries to resist rolling her eyes. Of course Molly knows. Mrs Weasley watches everybody and, bless her, she likes to be in on everybody's business. And Tonks' attraction to Remus is probably getting more obvious by the day.

"I'm not sure," she replies.

Molly smiles broadly. "What does it feel like?"

"I dunno," Tonks lies. Molly's great, but she'll get dead soppy if Tonks tells her how good being near Remus is and how powerless and protective he makes her feel. And no way can she talk to Molly about the things she thinks about him at night, picturing those eyes.

"He's a very nice man," Molly declares, glowing, "When are you going to tell him?"

"Don't know that either. Sirius is convinced he likes me back, and sometimes I reckon that he's right. But then I think I'm kidding myself. We've got a good working relationship so I can't really risk that,"

"I'd believe you if you hadn't just gazed and him and told him he'd look nice with a beard,"

Tonks feels herself blush. "Yeah and I totally put my foot in it didn't it? I'm always doing that with him, I've never had this sort of...it's never been this complicated with other blokes". It's never been this complicated or unexpected or meaningful with anybody else. She's never felt this happy thinking about anybody else. Is that how you know you're in love?

"For once I agree with Sirius," says Molly.

"Blimey,"

"I think Remus does have feelings for you, but if I know him I know that he won't want to presume anything. I imagine he's shy when it comes to that, so you're going to have to tell him straight,"

"Hmm. Yeah," Tonks nods. She'd stopped listening at " _He does have feelings for you"._ Really? Could he? _Does_ he? Molly's a soppy old romantic, but it's more believable coming from her than from Sirius.

"I'll keep quiet about it to everybody else while you're still working it out," Molly whispers knowingly. She's still beaming.

"Cheers," says Tonks and laughs when Molly, getting up to put the kettle on, glances round to give her a very un-Molly Weasley-ish wink.

* * *

 **March**

The bad news is that there isn't enough evidence to hold the suspect overnight, which means releasing him on bail this evening so more work to do when he's brought in for questioning next week. The good news is that it means there's no need to stay until five o'clock, so she can see Remus sooner.

It's been ten days now. Ten days since he first kissed her and she told him how she feels about him and they'd kissed and talked and laughed, cuddled up on her sofa until late into the night. He's been over twice since for more of the same. It's undefined and strange, it feels innocent and sometimes slightly awkward, and absolutely fantastic. Tonks keeps grinning to herself, so much that yesterday Dawlish asked if she'd drank Gigglewater. Tonight she's going to Remus' place for the first time.

"Don't get your hopes up," he'd told her with a sheepish smirk, but Tonks is excited to be in his house, his world. Besides, her flat's hardly the Ritz. Shutting her desk drawer and hurling her cloak on (it's a few days after the clock-change but the weather's still chilly), she waves goodbye to the rest of the Aurors, then hurries out of the office and down into the atrium. Finishing early means that there's no Floo queue, so she grabs a handful of powder, tosses it into the fire and steps in.

"Lawton Cottage, Derby,"

There's the familiar spin and soot, and then Tonks feels herself land in a new fireplace. It must be narrow because her elbows are bumping the sides.

"Wotcher. Remus?" she calls, peering out into the room. It's a small lounge with a sofa against one wall, a bookshelf by the window and a coffee table in between, all on top of the ugliest rug Tonks has ever set eyes on.

"Remus?"

A door squeaks open and he walks in. "Hello. Sorry, I didn't realise you'd be here so soon,"

He's wearing dark trousers and braces, and his green and white checked shirt with the top buttons undone. Remus' sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. He's also not wearing shoes, which shouldn't be as odd as it is. Tonks doesn't reckon she's seen him in his socks before. He holds out a hand to step her out of the fireplace. Tonks ignores it and climbs out on her own.

"Had to release a suspect at twenty to five, so I got to leave after that," she explains, leaning up to peck Remus' cheek. He puts an arm around her shoulder to hold her there, and kisses her softly on the mouth.

"Hello," he says again, grinning.

She's smiling back like a besotted moron. "Hi,"

Remus gives her a squeeze, then lets her go and says, "Sorry it's a mess, I was just going to tidy up,"

There's a couple of mugs strewn about and a book left open on the coffee table, but it's hardly what Tonks would call a mess. She shrugs. "I've seen worse,"

Remus flicks his wand at the mugs and they bolt upright, dregs of tea disappearing. The rug, Tonks notices, is on top of floorboards not a carpet. There's a split in the coffee table wood.

"Make yourself at home," Remus says, in a rather forced voice, "D'you want anything to eat? Drink?"

"I'm alright, thanks,"

He picks up the book and slides it back into the bookshelf. The top four shelves are full of books, but the bottom, Tonks observes, contains LPs.

"Let's see your records," she says, kneeling to look and pulling a few out from the shelf. Celestina Warbeck, _Sheer Heart Attack,_ Mahler, Elgar, _Letitia Zabini Sings The Blues,_ ELO, Shostakovich Waltzes, _Ruddigore..._

"Go on, then," says Remus, sounding wearily amused, "Mock,"

"I wasn't going to mock!"

He looks at her sceptically. She finds herself melting slightly under his gaze.

"Some of this is alright, you know. _Sheer Heart Attack_ is cool," Tonks insists, glancing away.

Remus kneels down beside her to look at the record. "I think this might be Sirius', actually. Their release-date was always near his birthday, so I'd write to my mother to buy the record and send it to us so we could give it to him as a present. Although it looks like I borrowed this one from him and forgot to give it back,"

He smiles the sad smile that makes her stomach flip, and slides the record back on the shelf.

"Shostakovitch Waltzes," he reads, looking at the next LP Tonks pulled out, "This is one of my favourites. Do you dance?"

"Violently, at great risk to those around me,"

"Will you, then?"

It takes Tonks a second to realise that he's asking her to dance, and another to realise that he's asking her seriously. "Err, yeah. Alright,"

Remus reaches under the bookshelf and drags out a dusty record player. He takes the record out of its case, puts it onto the turntable and taps his wand to turn it on. The record crackles into life, playing out a bouncy, chirpy melody. Remus stands up, and this time Tonks does take his hand he holds out to her. He pulls her to her feet and into his arms in a loose ballroom hold, and sways her gently to the beat of the music.

"I'll probably step on your toes," she warns him.

"My toes have been through a lot," Remus shrugs, "Anyway, you're not wearing your construction boots today,"

She rolls her eyes. Bantering with him is always fun. "They're not construction boots,"

"Oh, they're _de_ struction boots," he says with exaggerated realisation. Tonks laughs and lets him waltz her across the room. He's pretty good at this, actually, and he seems less skittish now than he was last week. Perhaps she should come over more often.

"Who taught you to dance?" she asks.

"Nobody," Remus shrugs, "It's not difficult if you can count to three,"

"Ah, that's where I'm going wrong. Always get stuck after one and a half,"

"I knew there was a reason you failed Arithmancy,"

She giggles again and burrows her face into his itchy shirt, enjoying the feel and smell of him. He slows down, wraps both his arms around her properly and drops a kiss to the top of her head.

After a pause, Tonks murmurs, "This is really nice, Remus,"

"Mmm,"

"D'you know what, though?"

"What?"

She peels her face away from his shirt. "How come all this screechy violin stuff is fine, and you borrowed Sirius' Queen album, but all the music _I_ like is too high and loud for your sensitive wolf-ears?"

She reaches up and flicks the edge of his ear.

He chuckles. "Many _very_ complicated reasons. It'd take too long to explain,"

"I've got all evening," Tonks points out. Bantering is fun. Flirting is better.

"It'll take longer than that. I'll have to write you an essay,"

"An essay entitled _I Pretend I Don't Like Any Music Made After 1985 Although Really I Just Can't Be Bothered To Listen To It,"_

 _"_ No, entitled _Why Can't They All Stop Screaming?"_

"If you bothered to listen to any music I like maybe you'd realise it isn't all screaming,"

He kisses the top of her head again. "I don't think I'll take the risk".

* * *

 **April**

Since Sirius "gave" them his dad's old study, Tonks has developed a habit of slipping notes into Remus' pockets asking him to meet her up there. The sneaking around just about satisfies Remus' insistence on discretion. Tonks, meanwhile, has always thought that her own parents' teenage relationship, creeping out of their dormitories to meet each other at night, was dead dramatic. Kissing Remus up against the sideboard in Orion Black's dusty old office doesn't quite have the glamour of Mum and Dad's moonlight meetings on the Astronomy Tower, but she'll take it. Right now they're crammed beside each other on the office armchair while Remus dollops slow, wet kisses down her jaw. He's more confident about this in Grimmauld than at home, and as the weeks go on he's getting less tentative. His shyness was cute at first; he was like a nervous teenager. The age thing hadn't seemed so weird when Remus looked so boyishly pleased and bamboozled every time they kissed. And Tonks would be lying if she claims that it isn't a turn-on to know that Remus hasn't let himself become involved with anybody for years, but that he wants her too much to resist. Moreover, she likes that, because it's been a while for him, she gets to help him find out how he likes to be kissed and touched and what feels good. She likes to make him feel good. And she likes that _he_ needs prompting and showing how to touch her in return.

"You can bite me if you want," she murmurs, tilting her head to give him a better angle on her neck. _Let me tell you what I want. Let me show you what women like- although there's never going to be another woman, not if I have anything to say about it._ It's good to know that this is one thing she's got over on him, because in so many ways Tonks feels powerless when it comes to all this. These feelings so intense they make her light-headed and tongue-tied and unable to concentrate when he's near. It's disorientating in the most addictive way. Remus being Remus, he probably doesn't know the effect he has on her. Thank Merlin she has the physical thing over on him, so she doesn't feel completely on the back foot.

Remus's mouth stops momentarily against her skin.

"No, thank you," he murmurs, as if she's offered him an extra helping of gravy that he doesn't quite fancy. _You_ are _odd sometimes, Remus,_ Tonks thinks fondly.

"Can you blow, then?" she suggests, "Really lightly where your mouth just was,"

Her neck's damp from his tongue, and when he blows across her skin it tingles deliciously. Tonks sighs- slightly more theatrically then necessary because he needs encouragement like that. It works, because Remus blows down the other side of her neck, and then his hands go to either side of her face and he presses their mouths together. His kiss is tender and languid. Tonks is smiling, and she likes knowing he can feel it. He always makes her smile.

It's only the next day, reviling the scene pleasantly in her mind while sitting through a boring Auror Assessment, that Tonks realises with a jolt why he didn't want to bite her.

* * *

 **May**

This is where they started: The back porch of Grimmauld Place, looking out at the gnarled garden while scuffing their feet in the leaves. That was back in Autumn; its nearly Summer now. Remus looks beautiful, silhouetted in the dusk with his legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed.

"Wotcher," she says.

His eyes flicker open and he smiles melancholically up at her (Tonks' stomach flips). "Hello,"

"Thought you seemed a bit down. I brought you this," Tonks announces slightly awkwardly, holding out a mug of hot chocolate and a croissant. "Not sure how long that's been in the cupboard, so it might be a bit stale," she adds. The apology is about croissant is a coded apology for disturbing him. Sometimes he likes to be left with his thoughts.

"Thank you," Remus says, taking the mug and the croissant. When Tonks doesn't move he adds, "You can stay if you like,"

She tries not to beam at the invitation, thinking that of course she'd like. She'd like to be with him all the time. Tonks sits down beside him and follows his gaze into the sky.

"There's Andromeda," Remus points out, indicating the curved pattern of stars in the darkening sky. He takes a big bite of the pastry.

"Oh yeah. Mum always tried to show me where it was when I was a kid. You know what the Blacks are like with Astronomy,

"Sirius always hated it,"

 _Yeah,_ Tonks thinks, _of course he did._ But instead she asks out loud, "So what are you looking at?"

"What do you think?" he asks passively, eyes flicking up to the quarter-moon glowing silver above them.

"Ah. Right,"

How could she not have known? The moon's always hanging over him. It's quite nice tonight, she thinks. There's silence for a long moment and then Remus says, "This is the worst part, you know. Waking crescent. Nearer to the full than the new, but not near enough to start preparing,"

"Is it really horrible, Remus? Even on Wolfsbane?"

He looks at her with a strange expression on his face. Tonks isn't sure if he's contemplating the answer or expecting her to add something. She waits.

"Not _as_ bad," Remus says at last, "But pretty bad".

He wipes the shards of pastry from his mouth, takes a sip of hot chocolate, and looks back up into the sky.

* * *

 **June**

Between kisses, she feels him lift her up by the waist and carry her over to the stairs. He slips his arm under her knees, so he's carrying her like a bride. Tonks kicks her shoes off and shortens her legs a bit to help him out, wrapping both arms around his neck. She can smell the dark, fruity scent of red wine on him. Remus is a lovely drunk, all sweet and cuddly and the tiniest smidge less hesitant. He falters a bit on the battered stairs and giggles, and Tonks is laughing back louder, and he's telling her to shush.

"Remus, you live in the middle of flipping nowhere. Nobody's going to hear us,"

"There's mice in the skirting-boards. They might hear. They might think we're up to something," he adds in a dramatic whisper, words slurring slightly.

"Hmm," Tonks responds, staring hungrily at his bottom lip, "And what _are_ we up to?"

Remus grins and carries her up the rest of the staircase. Tonks likes it when he does that- she's used to feeling really blokey in life, at work, with him, so it's nice when he treats her like an actual girl. He's so special, she's so lucky, and that isn't just the alcohol talking. She hears Remus kick open his bedroom door, and then he lays her on his bed (sometimes Tonks wishes he'd be rougher and toss her down, but he's always gentle), toes off his shoes and climbs on top of her. He's all angles and bony joints, and his weight feels comfortable and sexy. Remus winks and lowers his mouth to hers, and Tonks keeps her eyes open to watch him kiss her, to gaze at his eyelashes and his jaw and the way his cheek's moving. He's dead handsome. Absolute knock-out, if only he realised it.

"You're gorgeous," she murmurs when his mouth hovers away, "You're so fucking sexy,"

His hips jerk against her. "Mind your language,"

Drunk Remus gets a bit cocky like that; he has a swagger to him that he never has sober. God, it's attractive.

Tonks grins up at him. "Fuck off,"

He tips his head back as he chuckles, then flops onto his side next to her and pulls her close, groping for the zip on the back of her dress.

"Sorry, it's fiddly," Tonks mumbles.

"But you want me to?" he clarifies, making sure to look at her directly as he asks.

"Course. Do you?"

"Yes," Remus affirms. He scrabbles uselessly between her shoulder-blades for a few moments, then gives up and nuzzles his nose against her neck.

"Let's do it standing up," Tonks suggests.

"Mmm?"

She pushes Remus off and slides off the bed. Landing on the floor, she grows her legs back so she's at normal height again, grabs Remus' hand and drags him across to his desk.

"Over the desk, yeah?" she says. She puts his hands on her hips from behind and leans back against him, "I want you so much right now,"

Sex with Remus so far has been controlled and slow and...okay. He's attentive rather than expert, and there's lots of communication, although more of the _"Is this alright? Are you sure?"_ variety than the " _I'm so horny, I can't wait to be inside you,"_ variety. He's very tender and he needs lots of kissing and stroking on the face, ears, neck, shoulders, arms, fingers, before anything goes below-waist. Right now she doesn't have time for any of that; he feels amazing pressed behind her, and it'll be fast and dirty and-

"I can't,"

Tonks glances round at him. "Come again?"

"I can't do it unless you're facing me,"

He's not slurring now. He looks uncomfortable and he sounds very sure. He moves his hands from her hips to her shoulders.

"Why? In case I change my face?" Tonks asks, although Remus isn't as annoying about the Metamorphmagus thing than other guys she's been with.

"Not that," he clarifies, "I don't like it if I'm not looking at you,"

"Oh," Tonks hears the alcohol ask, "Why?"

"It's a bit impersonal, isn't it? And I want to know if you change your mind,"

She has to laugh at that. "You can see my face _now_ , can't you? And do you _honestly_ ," Tonks says pushing back harder against his chest and hips, "Think that I'm going to change my mind?"

She can't help the sigh-growl that escapes her throat. _For once, Remus, just shut up and fuck me._

"I'm sorry, I can't," he says, propping her up on her own weight so he can step away from her. His tone is detached and frustrated, as if she's inconveniencing him.

"Why are you being weird about this?" Tonks asks, stung, "You shut your eyes most of the time anyway,"

"I just don't want to, what's wrong with that?"

He's on the defensive now; more waspish than he would be sober.

"Fine, I get it, you don't like doggy-"

She stops talking abruptly as the realisation hits.

Doggy-style.

Oh.

Oh, right. Of course.

Tonks groans inwardly _._ _You stupid, stupid girl._

"I'm so sorry," she breathes. He's looking at the ceiling. "I'm sorry, Remus. I understand,"

Remus can't have sex doggy-style because he can't feel like a wolf, an animal, when he's with her. He lives in terror of that. And of course has to be facing her, because everybody knows that when it comes to women it isn't just bites that Greyback uses as a threat. Tonks winces. Nearly a year since she cut her hand in the Grimmauld kitchen and she's still putting her foot in her mouth and upsetting him about this. Of course Remus is weird about some things, he's a _werewolf_ for goodness sake, and she should know by now that that doesn't mean one night a month. It means every day, every second. How can she love him this much but not have learnt that by now?

Tonks looks at him, standing beside the wardrobe and staring at the ceiling. His clothes and hair are rumpled but all the sexiness of ten seconds ago has vanished. Tonks mumbles his name and reaches out her hand. Remus half-glances at her, touches his fingers to hers, and looks at the ceiling again.

"Forget it. We'll do whatever you like," she murmurs. Anything he wants, anything to make him happy.

After a long pause, Remus mutters, "Perhaps we should go to sleep now,"

The wariness in his voice stings. _You don't have to be wary with me,_ Tonks thinks, _I love you_ so _much._ But maybe that's the problem? She loves him too much to care that he's a werewolf, but _he_ cares about it. Perhaps she loves him with too much intensity. Remus isn't an intense person. Maybe he finds her too much to deal with. Perhaps she is too young for him, after all.

"Yeah," Tonks mutters, spitting the word out hastily so it doesn't choke on tears. She isn't going to cry, she is _not_ going to cry.

Remus moves stiffly to his wardrobe, takes out a set of his pyjamas, and hands Tonks the pair that she's started keeping here. He turns away from her while he changes, and it stings that a minute ago she was about be the one undoing Remus' buttons and braces, and now he's doing it himself, hurriedly and silently and not looking at her. But what hurts more is the glimpse of the bite mark on his shoulder- the reason all this has happened and has ruined so much for him.

Tonks battles with the zip on her dress for a few endless, embarrassing seconds- as if this moment wasn't humiliating enough- but it won't budge. With a huff, she gives up and climbs into bed still in her dress. Remus pulls the lumpy duvet over them both, and taps his wand on the beside light to turn it off. They lie beside each other in the darkness, not touching. Silence.

"I'm sorry," Tonks says again.

His voice is tired, and sad, and resigned. "I know,"

In the morning her hangover kills.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading. Have a fun weekend, and please remember to review.**


	6. Wash

**Warning for sexual content.**

Wash

She loves taking showers together. Shutting the bathroom door and pulling the plastic curtain across so it's just the two of them. No newspapers or radio peddling crap about Harry or Dumbledore or what's so obviously happening in front of them. No Sirius cracking jokes or Molly looking pleased. No friends to argue about not telling, no rest of the world who won't understand. Being alone with him under the water is enjoyably intimate, and she's sure he must feel it too because sometimes he'll tell her something, about Sirius or his Mum, or something bad that's happened to him, which she doubts he'd bring up if they weren't under the water.

She likes looking at him naked too, studying his movements. He's so elegant. She's also much stringier than she'd anticipated. She'd hoped he'd have a bit of muscle on him, but his arms and torso are mostly flat. She doesn't mind. She likes watching water dribble down his face and over his collarbones, down to his shoulders and chest. He looks cute when he's dripping and pale with his wet hair plastered to his face. She dollops shampoo on her hands and slides her fingers into his hair, rubbing circles onto his scalp. He closes his eyes contentedly.

"Do you like that?" she asks. He's pretty quiet during anything physical; she usually has to coax a response out of him like this.

"Mmm,"

"Tell me,"

"Yes, I like it,"

She rubs lighter, skimming his skull with her fingertips. "Tell me more,"

"It- ah- that feels nice. Good. Really good,"

She moves closer, pressing her body against his, tipping his head back while she washes his hair. His hands wander round her waist, and she runs her fingers down his arm to his stomach, enjoying stroking his skin when it's slick and soapy. In the shower she can touch him all over (apart from his left shoulder, where the bite is. She tries not to look at that). Sometimes she sucks him off. He spends so much time hating his body and what it does to him that she likes to show him how good she can make it feel. She likes kissing down his chest and stomach and dropping to her knees in front of him. She likes the control of it; intensifying and delaying and his pleasure. But she also likes it when he tells her what to do; slower, faster, deeper. She likes the way he strokes her hair, holds her neck and fondles her ears, his touch always so tender. Most of all she likes looking up at his face; he's eager and unhinged. Possessiveness and lust purr in her stomach when she thinks proudly that nobody else gets to see him like this. This is just for her. This is all for her.

If he isn't in the mood himself he usually gets her off. He's not an incredible lover but he's very attentive. It's best when they're in his shower, where everything smells of his soap and she can lean against the cool tiles while he slips his hand under her knee to crook her leg up. Then, he kneels down and runs his lips over her shin and calf, his touch maddeningly light. He can make her come better with his hands than his mouth, so he usually kisses back up her body, getting to his feet as he slips his fingers between her legs. She drapes her arms around his neck and says his name over and over, murmuring at first and then louder, groaning over the sound of the water. He always looks pleased and impressed afterwards, like he's surprised he can do that to her. It's the cutest thing.

When they shower at her flat, he ribs her about how many different types of hair product she owns ("What's conditioner?", "What's the difference between hair putty and hair wax?", "I thought mousse was something you ate for pudding,") and she doesn't worry so much about wasting his water (he'd brought it up once and she'd barely known what he was talking about. Then she'd felt like she was spoilt because she's never had to worry about things like that). She likes using his soap, but it's also really sexy to watch him use hers and to imagine him smelling it later and thinking of her. She likes to think about him thinking about her. She likes him to smell like her too; like she's claimed him, he belongs to her. The belong to each other now. A few weeks ago she told him he could call her Dora; all her family call her that and he feels like part of her family. They sleep in his bed together, which she knows he hasn't done with anybody in ages. They're part of each other's worlds. For a while she tried to persuade him to go out together and meet her friends so they could be like normal couple. By now she's mostly given up on that- you have to pick your battles with him, and that was a losing one. Besides, perhaps she doesn't need dates and to bring him to parties to feel normal. Maybe normal is soap and tiles and skin, under the falling water.

* * *

He loves taking baths together. He's hopeless at romance, and even if he wasn't he can't afford to take her out to dinner or buy her nice things. He never has, although he doesn't feel so guilty about that now, because nearly every knut they have is going towards the baby. It's due in the middle of April- four and a half months away, and even though Molly has donated a pram, a Moses basket and crateful of baby clothes, there's bound to be more stuff to buy when the baby arrives. They're both working at the moment, but his manager's getting suspicious about his monthly absences, so he'll probably have to leave before the Winter's out. So presents and posh dinners aren't on the cards. The one romantic thing he reckons he might actually be quite good at, though, is baths. He goes the whole nine yards- candles, soft music, bath salts of the variety which make the lady behind the shop counter raise her eyebrows to see a man like him buy. He waits until Andromeda is in bed or has gone out for the evening, and then he runs the bath, pours in the salts, lights the candles, flicks the radio on and dims the lights. He leads his wife into the bathroom and kisses her softly, takes his clothes off and climbs into the bath. He helps her undress and step in after him- usually she'd get cross with him for mollycoddling her, but the newly-appeared bump's disorientated her. It's one morph she doesn't seem to have mastered. He's secretly pleased about that- he likes looking after her and he'll take any opportunity she gives him to do it. In the bath, he leans his back against the edge and she leans against his chest. She tangles their feet together and her hands rest over his over the baby.

"Tell us a story," she sometimes says. Us. From the start she's referred to herself and the baby as us, we, our. It used to terrify him, but it doesn't anymore. Perhaps because it's started showing now (last week Molly squealed happily, "You've popped!" which he reckoned was a mildly worrying expression) so it seems more like a person. Sometimes "us" even refers to the three of them. That isn't terrifying at all. It's wonderful.

There's an unspoken rule that in the bath there's no discussion of the war, or the Order, Harry, Voldemort and Potterwatch. It dominates everybody's conversation these days, so in the bath allows him a brief time to just enjoy being with his wife (there is nothing "just" about his wife). They debate baby names, chat about music or books, or she tells him one of her ridiculous anecdotes to make him laugh.

Sometimes, with the lapping water and the soft music, looking down at her body and feeling her weight on top of him, he can't help but get hard. Before, he'd have got flustered and muttered an uncomfortable apology and an explanation that he didn't expect anything. Now he just lets her crane around to cock an amused eyebrow at him.

He shrugs. "You're beautiful,"

He always used to be awkward about saying that- he was awkward about lots of things, but specifically complementing her appearance was an odd area which he preferred not to try to navigate. People think of him as articulate, but she's always been better at expressing emotions. Right from the start she could look him the eye and tell him she loved him, she was angry at him, he was cute, he was wrong. Telling her how he feels back isn't so frightening anymore. She _is_ beautiful. He strokes her wet arms and swelling breasts, kisses her shoulders, laps at her earlobe, and murmurs how thankful he is that they met, how happy she makes him, how excited he is to meet their baby. Sometimes she's nervous about impeding motherhood, and in the bath he listens while she mumbles her anxieties to him. He knows he's a good listener, and he knows how unhelpful vague encouragements like _You'll be fine_ or _It'll work itself out_ are.

She doesn't sleep well at night at the moment, partly because of the pregnancy and partly because she worries about her father. A couple of times she's ended up falling asleep in the bath. He never used to be too fussed about watching her sleep, but since they don't share a bed anymore it's nice to see her like that. Quiet and still, like she never is awake. Snuggled up to him, her olive skin against his pale chest, both of their bodies wet. He likes watching her wake up, wonder where she is for a moment, then remember, relax and turn round to ask with a sheepish smile, "Did I nod off?". She always looks pleased to see him. She always _is_ pleased to see him and that still boggles his mind, although by now he's stopped questioning it. Now, he is simply grateful that any of this happened and that he's found himself in a bathtub with this incredible woman who has given him such life, and holds the life they have created inside her.


	7. Stuff

Stuff

She seemed to have left almost everything she'd ever owned in Remus' cottage. Every so often he'd tried to give the stuff he'd found back to her, but he obviously hadn't tried hard enough because now he'd found her possessions everywhere. Her hair-bands by the sink. Her jotter on his bookshelf. Her socks under the bed. In one of his drawers he'd found a music magazine, a pyjama top and a pair of underwear that he'd been meaning to hand back to her next time (the thought of her leaving her knickers in his bedroom made him blush, and he knows that she would have sniggered at his embarrassment). Now, they all went in the box along with the hair-bands, jotter and socks. Remus planned to give the box to Kingsley with instruction to pass it on to her. He wouldn't see her himself. A couple of days after he told Tonks he was ending them, Remus had written to Dumbledore telling him he was available for any long-term investigation required. He remembered a conversation a while ago in which Dumbledore mentioned infiltrating Greyback's werewolf pack. Remus had written that he could do that, or try to work with the centaurs, or go abroad if necessary. Anything not to have to see her. Anything not to hurt her more than he already had. As for his own pain- well, it was his fault, he deserved it. Deserved having to fold up Tonks' pyjama t-shirt, with her smell clinging to it, and the memories of the times he'd seen her wear it. She hadn't bought pyjamas over for ages- she said she kept forgetting. The t-shirt was bright blue with _Down Vith Children_ emblazoned across the chest. Tonks had tried to explain the reference about ten times- Remus kept pretending to forget to wind her up. They'd done a lot of winding each other up. She was fun to be with like that, in a way which even Sirius wasn't. She was silly and unpredictable and often, Remus suspected, barking mad. She had made him feel so alive.

He put the folded t-shirt into the box. He'd investigate the bathroom next, and that wouldn't be as bad as the bedroom because Tonks didn't bother to bring her own soap and shampoo- she had tonnes of the stuff, more types of hair product that Remus had known existed. During the week she could shower in two minutes, but on the weekend she liked to take ages, and sometimes he'd climb in too. She'd wash his hair, rubbing soapy circles on his scalp. He'd loved that. Here, Remus was worried that long showers ran up the water bill, but when he'd mentioned it in her flat Tonks had looked at him like he was insane, then shrugged that it was nothing to worry about. Investigating the bathroom now, Remus only found a tube of eyeliner left by the mirror. He hadn't realised that she'd owned so much make-up. The tube was half-empty and sticky, but Remus put it in the box anyway. He wasn't binning or keeping anything. He didn't want any reminders of her. Getting Dora Tonks out of his head was going to be difficult enough so he didn't need to keep any of her stuff here to taunt him. Even if he wanted to, he didn't deserve it. He'd taken too much from her already.

It took Remus another half-hour to collate all of Tonks' belongings. He double-checked every room and kept finding something new. One of her crime thriller novels was wedged into his bookshelf. A pair of her ridiculous fingerless leather gloves were stuffed in his coat pocket. In a kitchen cupboard was a packet of biscuits Tonks had brought over but they hadn't got round to eating. Remus searched through his pockets and bedside drawer for the notes she wrote him, hastily scrawled on a torn-out square of parchment. _You look well fit today. See you in the Study in 10 mins?_ and _Didn't want to wake you up. Owl me if you're free later xxx_ and _THIS IS THE DULLEST MEETING EVER._ These notes usually ended in at least four exclamation marks- one was never enough for her. She was exclamation marks and question marks, sarky asides in brackets and suspenseful ellipses. He was a comma. Useful but boring. Easy to overlook. He should have put a full stop to them long before he did. Remus did a final sweep of his bedroom, wrote _N Tonks c/o Shaklebolt_ on the side of the box, and sealed the lid shut.

* * *

He didn't leave a thing. Not a quill, not a shoe-lace, not a chocolate wrapper. He'd lent her books a few times but, knowing how important his books were to him, Tonks had always made sure to give them back (sometimes she lied about having read them and Remus would give her his Professor glare and ask her a question about it. When she'd get it wrong he'd sigh wearily, make a haughty, unimpressed comment and leave the disappointment hanging in the air for a moment. And then he'd wink). Now, alone in her flat with a suitcase open on the floor, Tonks wished that she'd kept a book. Just one item to prove that he'd been here and that they'd been a them. Without any of Remus' stuff it felt like it could have been a dream of the most wonderful three months and the most wonderful man, until he became dimmed by grief and fear ("Would you being doing this if Sirius hadn't died?" she'd asked through tears when he told her he was ending it. He'd taken her to a Muggle pub, which she now realised was an attempt to avoid her making a scene. Well tough luck because Nymphadora Tonks was not one to go quietly, "Well, would you?"

"I don't know," he murmured, "I hope so. I'm ashamed it's taken this long for me to realise how selfish I've been,"

He looked miserable. Since Sirius died Tonks had wanted to hold and comfort him- they could help each other through the grief. But instead he'd been mumbly and detached, and now she understood why. She wanted to should that it hadn't been selfish- it had been lovely and meaningful and fun, but the tears came harder, and all she could do was cry and kick the table, and everybody in the pub stared). That was the start of July. It was nearly the end of August now, and she was going away to Hogsmeade in a few days. Tonks wasn't sure if that would make her feel better or worse. Perhaps a change of scene might be good, but she doubted it'd stop her feeling so lost and anxious. She wished Remus had left a shirt or a cardigan; something she could remember him wearing, something that smelled like him. She'd loved wearing his clothes. She kept pretending to forget to bring pyjamas to his place because she liked wearing his shirt and boxers to bed. And Merlin, it had been a turn-on to smell his clothes and feel their warmth on her and be where his skin had been, with the real Remus lying beside her. She'd liked using his soap too, so she could smell him and smell like him. She liked being like him.

She didn't even have a page of his handwriting (it was messier than she expected. Sirius' was very neat). At this rate Tonks would take having a hairbrush or a sock. But Remus looked after his possessions carefully because he didn't have many. Before he'd gone away to the werewolf camp he'd sent, via Kingsley, a box of all the clothes, books and assorted crap that Tonks had left in his cottage. Before, when he'd hand her back a jacket or notebook she'd left there, Tonks would laugh and shrug, but the box made her blush ashamedly. He probably thought she'd was a right slob because she kept losing stuff and leaving her things lying around. Or he reckoned she was spoilt because she never had to be as fastidious as he did; her family could always afford to replace stuff that got lost or broken. She'd been careless at the Ministry battle too, and now she'd lost Sirius and broken Remus. By not protecting his best friend she'd hurt him so badly that she didn't deserve to have a reminder of him. He told her to forget him ("How? How can I forget you? I _love_ you,") although Tonks wasn't sure if the box proved that Remus wanted to forget about her too. There were a couple of hairbands in the bottom of the box, and she'd need them more now that her hair had turned long and lank.

Tonks chucked a couple of pairs of socks into her trunk. Perhaps going away wouldn't make any difference. There'd be as much stuff in Hogsmeade to remind of her Remus as there was at home- zero. And truthfully, the stuff wasn't what mattered. England or Scotland, Manchester or Hogsmeade- it didn't make any difference, because wherever she was and however much of his stuff she had with her, she'd be loving him, and worrying for him, and missing him.


	8. Wedding Morning

Wedding Morning

The inn room door clatters open, and Remus jumps and dives for his wand.

"Calm down, it's only me," Tonks scoffs, "Code number 4627,"

Instead of asking each other security questions, they're in the habit of giving each other numbers to remember.

"2295," he replies. He shoves his wand into his pocket, and goes back to fiddling with his shirt collar.

"You scrub up alright," she says approvingly. She walks over over and hugs him from behind, pressing her forehead into his shoulder and looping her arms around his middle. He likes it when she does that. It feels like she's keeping him safe.

"How're you doing?" Tonks asks. In the mirror, Remus sees her jut her head onto his shoulder and meet his eyes.

"Hmmf," Remus grunts.

"That good, eh?" she says, "Don't worry. You'll be fine. We'll be fine,"

Dora cranes her neck to stamp a kiss on his shoulder (usually, she's quite a bit shorter than he is, though Remus supposes that that might not be her natural height), then lets him go and hurls herself onto his bed. He loves how at home she is everywhere. Remus constantly feels gangly and boxed in, whereas whatever room Dora's in she'll bounce through the door and kick her feet up on the furniture.

"I know it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, but I'm not in my dress," she shrugs, "Anyway, who cares about luck?"

Remus reckons that they're going to need cauldrons worth of luck, though he doesn't say so.

"I'm waiting 'til the last minute before I put the dress on. Don't wanna spill anything, Molly would murder me," Tonks explains. Considering that they're having a private, low-key wedding, she hadn't planned on buying a wedding dress. But Molly had been so thrilled when she heard that they were getting married that she immediately started adapting one of her old party frocks for Tonks to wear. Considering Andromeda's reaction to new of the wedding had been so negative, Remus was touched at how overjoyed the Weasleys were, and how much effort Molly went to in making Tonks a wedding dress.

Tonks is still prattling about clothes: "Where's you new whistle from?"

"Grimmauld Place," Remus answers.

"It's _Sirius_ '?"

"Yes. Couldn't get married in one of my tatty old suits, could I?"

When Remus returned from Greyback's werewolf colony a three months ago, he was in dire need of new attire. Remus was used to wearing threadbare, tattered and moth-eaten clothes, but by the time he came home from the colony in Keswick the few sets of clothes he's taken with had become ripped, bloodied, begrimed, and impossible to get properly dry. Sturgis had returned the clothes Remus hadn't taken to Keswick to him, and donated some of his own cast-offs. Kingsley visited Remus in his safehouse and left a bag of clothes which he had _bought_ for him. Molly knitted him a couple of jumpers. Their kindness was astonishing. Visiting one afternoon, Hestia suggested that Remus take some of Sirius' clothes from Grimauld Place. Remus had refused at first, believing that it would be inappropriate to raid Padfoot's wardrobe. Hestia didn't nag about issues like that, so she had left it. But the more Remus considered, the more he realised that Sirius would despise the idea of his clothes getting dusty and dilapidated in the house he hated. Sirius would be offended by that and, Remus knew, he'd be frustrated at Remus turning down the chance to make himself more warm and comfortable. So he'd gone to Grimmauld Place and took home most of the clothes in Padfoot's wardrobe. The suit he's wearing for the wedding is one he took but didn't expect to ever actually wear. It's black with blue piping, and made of a suede-y corduroy type of material. The shirt Remus is wearing with it is blue with a Sirus-style wide collar. It feels funny- in both senses of the word- to be wearing Padfoot's suit. Funnier still to be getting married in it.

"I wouldn't have minded," Dora says softly, "The tatty old suits are you,"

"Sirius would want to be here," Remus replies. He knows that Tonks will understand what he isn't adding: wearing Padfoot's clothes is a way to keep him close. He should be here. Who else would Remus have chosen as his best man?

"I know," Dora whispers quietly, and Remus can tell that she means a lot more by it. Sometimes she has the subtlety of a brick, sometimes she needles him about being evasive- and sometimes she knows exactly what to say to make him feel secure and understood. Remus gazes at her fondly through the mirror. He's going to _marry_ her. The loss of Padfoot weights on him constantly, and he's still reeling from Snape's betrayal and murder of Dumbledore. Remus is used to being accompanied by the shadowy figure of misery, although today's one of the days when the figure's standing further off. That's generous of it, Remus reckons. How kind of his shady companion to get out of his way on the day of his wedding. He smiles again when he thinks of the word "wedding". Marriage had never, _ever_ been on his radar until this brash, puckish Auror stumbled into his world. Remus manages a few moments of unnoticed observation before Tonks' Plain-Site-Hiding training kicks in, and she glances up.

"What are you looking at? Have I got something on my face?"

Remus steps across the room, kneels down, takes her face in his hands and is kisses her hard. Dora returns it hungrily (she never hesitates or seems surprised. She _always_ wants his touch and his kisses), draping her arms around his neck and pressing herself close against him. Tonks grins against his mouth- he loves feeling her smile like that. He loves her, he loves her, he loves her.

"That was nice," she sighs dreamily when he pulls away.

"I'm so pleased I'm marrying you," Remus breathes.

"Me too,"

She presses another kiss to his mouth. "We're going to totally rock this marriage lark,"

Remus beams at her, stands up, and turns back to the mirror to fix his tie. After a couple of minutes, Tonks groans.

"I'd better go back," she huffs, "Don't want Mum and Dad to fuss,"

Tonks' parents, unsurprisingly, are far from content with her choice of husband. Remus went to their house for dinner the other day- Ted made an effort to be welcoming, though Andromeda glared and sniped at him. Remus didn't blame her.

"I guess I'll see you up there," Tonks says, and it doesn't escape Remus' notice that _she_ sounds jittery, "Looking forward to it,"

She gives him a swift, tight hug, pecks the corner of his mouth and hums contentedly. Then she boots the room's door open.

"Yes," nods Remus as Tonks exits the room, "I can't wait".


	9. Picture Book

**If you're reading this, thanks so much for clicking on this story. Extra thank you to everybody who has reviewed. Recommended listening for this chapter: _Photograph_ by Ed Sheeran. Hope you enjoy.**

Picture Book

If Tonks and her boyfriend had one thing, it was differing sleeping patterns. She, used to early starts at the Ministry, counted anything after seven o'clock as a lie-in. He, on the other hand, slept late most mornings. He was a voracious late-night reader, seldom got to sleep easily, and often woke up in the night. He'd never had consistent employment, so had rarely had the need to wake up early (he'd told her once that he was late to lessons every day the first week he taught at Hogwarts, because he wasn't used to having to be anywhere for nine o'clock). In the days before the full moon, he woke up even more during the night and slept even later in the mornings.

It was Sunday, two days to go before the moon. Tonks had never paid attention to the phases of the moon before, but in the last few months it had become a countdown in her head. Kingsley brought it up tactfully at the end of Order meetings- "Remus, will you be available that day?"- and Tonks was astonished at how Remus replied every time with such dignity. Sirius would loiter on the stairs fidgeting as he waited for the next delivery of Wolfsbane ("It's the only thing I can do to help anybody," he snapped). Podmore fussed over Remus until Sirius told him to shut it. Tonks tried to avoid joining in on the fuss but it was difficult not to when her boyfriend suddenly turned ashen or started muttering about back pain and faintness. There was always that countdown, and now they were together it played on her mind constantly. Two days now.

The radio had announced that it was half past nine. Remus was likely to be in bed for the foreseeable future, so Tonks had crept downstairs to investigate his bookshelf. There were books on Defensive Curses, Kappas and Indonesian Carnivorous Plants, a selection of battered Muggle novels, a Bible, and a thick leather-bound album. Intrigued, Tonks pulled it from the shelf and opened it. The first page had two photos stuck in; a wriggling baby, and then the same baby with two men. The bloke on the left was a much younger Remus; his hair was longer with no trace of grey, he wasn't so lean and he was sporting a fluffy moustache that didn't suit him at all. The other man looked like Harry, which meant it must be James- Tonks had heard it mentioned countless times that Harry was the spit of his father. Well, it was certainly true because the man was an older copy of Harry, except that his nose was longer and his glasses were square instead of round. Remus had his arm around James' shoulders and they were both smiling, although James' was wider. Tonks had never seen Harry smile like that. Speaking of Harry, he must be the baby. Cute little bugger. James was trying to make him wave to the camera, but Harry was squirming too much, so James passed him to Remus, who looked awkward holding the baby. Tonks realised with a jolt that the Remus in the photo is around the age that she was now. She looked at him again. What was he like? Would she fancy him if she met him at that age? What would he think of her?

A woman appeared on the following page's photos; this must be Harry's mum. Sirius had been right- she was very pretty. Baby Harry was less fidgety in his mother's arms. There was Remus again, lying on the carpet beside Harry building blocks into towers, which Harry was delightedly knocking over. The Remus in the photo looked more comfortable playing on the floor with Harry than he had done holding him. He didn't seem bored with the repetition of rebuilding towers. There was a caption written at the bottom: GH 11/6/81.

Tonks turned the page, and there was Sirius, leaning on his motorbike. He was wearing black boots, tight leather trousers and a grubby red t-shirt. His long dark hair was tied up in a messy bun. Merlin's toenails, he'd been a sexy bastard, hadn't he? James was back in the next photo. He was trying to sit on the motorbike's handlebars while Sirius irritably shooed him off. James kept sniggering, and Sirius was looking increasingly annoyed. There was another boy in the picture too, whom Tonks knew must be Peter Pettigrew. The traitor. She hadn't thought much about what the man who betrayed the Potters would look like, but she knew she hadn't expected this. He was ordinary; short and round and smiley. James and Sirius were ignoring him- Remus had told her that they did that sometimes. It wasn't out of malice, he'd assured her, but simply out of James and Sirius being so wrapped up in each other. That, Remus theorised miserably, was why Peter had allowed himself to be led away.

Remus had kept all the photographs of Sirius, Tonks noted. Her mother had tried to get rid of all their photos of Sirius after he was sent to prison. Had Remus attempted to do the same? Or had he always wanted to keep hold of happy memories, even if he thought that Sirius betrayed them?

After a few more Harry pages, Tonks got to the Potters' wedding. There they were kissing outside the chapel, cutting their wedding cake, dancing together in the dusk (had Remus taken all these pictures? If he had he was a good photographer). Peter and Sirius stuffing their faces at the buffet, James and Remus clinking glasses, Sirius with an arm hooked around Lily, smushing a kiss to her cheek while James rolled his eyes. There were photos of other people there too; friends and relatives (were Harry's grandparents in here somewhere?). After the wedding (well, before, as Tonks had worked out that she was going backwards in time), there were three pages of photos of Remus and Lily. Jumping off a wall together, legs flailing, disappearing onto the other side, and then climbing back over as Lily leaned across to ruffle Remus' hair. A pair of photos that must have been taken at the same time because they were both holding cameras up to their eyes. Lily flicking through 12"s in a record shop. Remus draped on the sofa with a newspaper (he still sprawled like that now when he was reading). An arty photo of Lily wearing an enormous knitted jumper and stirring a mug of tea. Tonks hadn't realised they'd been such good friends- why hadn't he mentioned it?

Now they were at Hogwarts. These photos must be almost twenty years old, no wonder they were so faded. Peter was climbing a tree. James was messing about with a Snitch, letting it fly away from him before lurching gracefully forwards to grab it back. Shirtless Sirius was brushing his hair while flirting with his reflection in the dormitory mirror. Remus was asleep in an armchair (he was so cute) while Peter tried to pull a book out from between his arms. James, Sirius and Peter in their animagi form- James' stag was beautiful. Some of the photos had dates and captions, and the boys got younger as the pages went on. Remus was a taller teenager than Tonks had imagined, and surprisingly chubby in the early photos. His curly hair was in an awful bowl-cut style in those pictures, although thankfully by third-year he was wearing it shorter and more like James. His grin was never as wide or wild as the other Marauders'. Tonks supposed that, like all teenage gangs, they must have thought they were exactly on each other's wavelengths. Although in reality it'd be difficult to find four more different boys. She smirked at the photo of Professor McGonagall shouting and shoving her hand out to demand the camera was handed over. Then Sirius was back, leaning out of his dormitory window with a cigarette. Remus carrying a wobbling James on his shoulders (James was in shorts and a t-shirt, but Remus was wearing his Hogwarts uniform. He looked more comfortable in his school robes than he done wearing a suit at the Potters' wedding). Scrawny James in Quidditch gear hanging upside-down from his broomstick. Peter covered in grass as he rolled down the hill by the lake.

After the Hogwarts pages, Tonks came to a photo of an even younger Remus. He was slumped in a deckchair on the beach wearing a straw hat low over his eyes while idly turning the pages of a newspaper. A caption in childish handwriting read: Porthor 1969. Tonks smiled; he'd be nine years old and was already acting like an old man. In the next photo, Remus' head was thrown back in excitement as he ran out from the sea. Water was dribbling from his fingertips and his brown hair was plastered to his face. He was wearing those high-waisted 60s swimming trunks and on his left arm there was what looked like a Quidditch captain's armband, though Tonks knew it must be covering the wolf bite. Remus' mother was in the next photograph. He mentioned her occasionally now, although Tonks had never seen a picture of her before. She was sitting in the deckchair licking an ice-cream, and she waved when she saw that she was being photographed. She looked a lot like Remus; curly hair and square jaw. Tonks wondered what Mrs Lupin would have made of her. She'd probably have disapproved of her hair, her clothes and her loud music, but hopefully would have approved of her son's girlfriend being an Auror. And she looked like she'd got a sense of humour. The last photo on the page showed Remus and another boy and girl making a sandcastle. The little girl was trying to build a turret, the boy was patting the sides firm, and Remus was sticking flags into the top. Remus had explained to Tonks recently that he was allowed to play with other kids, but only for a couple of hours, and only children he met on holiday and wouldn't see again. Tonks imagined that he built castles with these kids on the beach for an afternoon before his parents led him away, worried that the boy and girl would ask about where he went to school or what was under the armband.

Tonks turned the pages, and there Remus was on Christmas Day, then kicking a ball in the park, then Cardiff Cathedral 1966, then clutching his teddy while drinking a glass of milk. He was pallid and roly-poly, and even then his clothes were shabby. There was a navy polo-neck jumper that appeared in three years of photographs, until the sleeves barely came down to Remus' wrists. But he was usually smiling and it looked like they'd had a happy family life. The last page's caption was written in adult handwriting: Remus' Birthday, March 1963. He was three. Almost all the pre-Hogwarts photos had been of Remus alone, occasionally with his mother (his dad must have taken the pictures), but these photos were full of dancing toddlers and their parents. He'd had friends- Merlin's beard, she realised, this was before he was bitten. Tonks felt abruptly panicky, like she was back in 1963 and desperate to beg Lupin Snr not to get involved in the werewolf interrogation. Three-year-old Remus was giggling on the floor surrounded by wrapping paper with his frizzy hair spilling out crazily from his head (why were mothers so weird about their kids' first haircut?) and he didn't know. Tonks had to warn them, but she couldn't warn them. What had all the kids and parents in the photos thought when Remus suddenly started getting poorly a couple of years later? Did he miss them when he moved away? He was so little. He must have been terrified.

The mantelpiece clock clanged half past eleven- crikey, she'd spent nearly an hour going through the album. She should probably check if Remus was awake and if he wanted a cup of tea. Tonks flicked back through the album, watching him age (the album stopped when he was twenty-one. Tonks reckoned that there was some symbolism in that), then snapped it shut. She slid the album back onto the shelf between As You Like It and Elixirs, Salves and Liquid Remedies of the 18th Century: Volume 4, and walked back upstairs. Remus' cottage was cramped, crooked and creaky, and the stairs quaked if you ran up them too fast, which Tonks almost always did. She got halfway up before remembering that she was supposed to be being unobtrusive this morning, and tiptoed the rest of the way up to the bedroom.

"Wotcher," Tonks whispered, creeping back in. Remus was curled up under the covers, face half-pressed into the pillow, "You awake?"

He didn't respond. Tonks pattered across to the bed, taking care not to knock anything over, and slipped in behind him. Remus' back felt warm and solid. Everything about him was solid, even when he was sickly. Tonks leaned over his shoulder to look at his face. It seemed different when he was asleep, although she couldn't explain why. Younger, perhaps? But not as young as the man who had played with baby Harry, or the boy who'd carried Peter Pettigrew on his shoulders. Peaceful? But Tonks knew that he rarely slept peacefully. Remus' pyjama t-shirt only half-covered the werewolf bite; the lower teeth-marks were visible from underneath his t-shirt. The bite became more sensitive and inflamed around the full moon, and this morning it was an ugly shade of scarlet. Poor bastard. He was so affable and honourable, and all he'd got in return was pain and hardship. Everything had been horribly unfair; the attack, the transformations, not being able to hold down a job or a house, losing all his friends. Remus had so much to give but the world kept taking. It was up to her to sort things out then, wasn't it? Tonks crooked her neck round to kiss his cheek.

"You'll be okay now," she murmured, "I promise I'll look after you,"

Truth be told, she liked looking after him. Tonks wouldn't have counted herself as a nursing type of person, but caring for him when he was ill was…empowering. It gave her a rare feeling of feminine protectiveness. Sirius insisted on being in charge during the night of the full moon and the morning after, but last month he'd allowed Tonks to take over Remus Recovery Duty once she got home from work in the evening. For months she'd been itching to buy him new robes, and shoes that weren't falling apart at the sole. She insisted on paying as much stuff as she could (which wasn't much, and they didn't go on dates), until Remus got cross with her. Perhaps when their lives weren't so busy and unpredictable she could treat him to theatre tickets and jazz concerts. Because if anybody deserved to be spoiled it was Remus Lupin.

"You're going to be fine, Remus. You're not on your own anymore," Tonks said aloud. He'd got Sirius back, and Harry and the rest of the Order. And he'd got her.

"It's all going to be okay," she added. Tonks wasn't sure if she was talking to the man in his thirties in bed beside her, or the teenager falling asleep over his homework, or the kid on the beach who'd been allowed to play with other children for once, or the toddler at his birthday party before everything went wrong.

She was going to make it right.

* * *

 **Thank you for your time. If you want more stories about our favourite nerdy werewolf and his gang, please take a look at my story _An Autumn._ Thanks. **


	10. Wedding Night

_We went down to the courthouse and the judge put it all to rest,_

 _No wedding day smiles, no walk down the aisle,_

 _No flowers, no wedding dress._

 _That night we went down to the river,_

 _And into the river we'd dive._

-Bruce Springsteen, _The River._

Wedding Night

Their wedding night was a disaster. Naturally, it was his fault. He'd made it through the day in one piece. Oh, whose he kidding- it had been wonderful. Remus had been buzzing with excitement and, shockingly, pride, from the minute he woke up that morning. It had been a tiny ceremony, just few family members in attendance, and they'd all looked delighted despite everything. Dora glowed with happiness all day, and for the first time in years Remus felt lucky.

Obviously that didn't last. They were spending the night in a small in above the pub where they'd had dinner after the ceremony. It was cheap but pleasant, and the gentle lapping of the Loch could be heard from the window. When they'd said goodnight to Tonks' parents she'd seized Remus' hand and pulled him giddily into the bedroom. She'd pressed a kiss to his neck before saying, "I'm just going to brush my teeth".

"Okay,"

But before she did, she took his hands in hers, looked him in the eye and told him, "I am so happy to be married to you". And she smiled. That changed everything. She'd been beaming all day but now they were alone her smile triggered something in Remus' brain, and the full horror of what he'd done hit him like a thrown brick. Oh God. Oh God ohGod ohGod ohGodohGod. He'd _married_ her. Saddled her for life with his illness and instability and impecuniousness. He _knew_ what it was like to go hungry and cold and hide from other people, and now he'd dragged her into that life too. Her impish smile, her shining eyes, her heart and her mind and her clumsiness, her accent and her changing faces, her jokes and her questions and her rebellious streak- all of it would dim and fade. How could he have _done this_ to her? Remus sank onto the bed, groaning. He pinched the bridge of his nose and then, to his astonishment, began to cry. Tears leaked out of his eyes and wormed their way down his face. Angrily, Remus scrubbed them away with his sleeve. He didn't cry, he wasn't supposed to cry. Sirius' suit was velvet and the tears seeped into the fabric. What a stupid idea to get married in his best friend's clothes; it was disrespectful to Sirius' memory and it could only be a bad omen. The whole thing had been powered by fear and grief. Remus was supposed to be better than that, he was supposed to have control. Dora was barely out of school- he should have acted like a teacher, an adult. Instead he'd allowed her to lead him down this path and now look where they'd ended up.

The bathroom door re-opened and Tonks chirped, "So I was thinking that-"

Remus' face was in his hands so he didn't Tonks' expression drop or how she bolted across the room. But he felt her sit beside him, put her hand gingerly on his arm and wrap her other arm around his shoulders

"Shh. Not tonight. Remus, darling, shh, not now,". _Remus_ and _darling_ sounded odd together, wrong. How could he be anybody's darling?

"This was a mistake. What have I done, what have I done to you?" he choked out, voice shaking.

"Made an honest woman of me, that's what," she said firmly.

"I'll have left you a-"

"Remus, please," Tonks begged, and as he lifted his face from his hands he saw that her own eyes were damp, "Not tonight. Please not tonight,"

Now she was crying too, so as well as ruining her status, her stability and her safety, he'd ruined her wedding night. It was that more than anything which calmed Remus down. This had to stop. He closed his eyes, took four deep breaths, and wiped his face with the back of his hand. Dora kept her arm around him, stroked his hair and mumbled that it was going to be alright. Remus tried not to listen because he knew it was a lie.

"There's my lovely boy," she smiled, when he'd regained enough composure to look at her. And then, in a delighted whisper, "There's my husband,"

Remus exhaled a long breath. "I love you," he said, because he knew she wanted to hear it.

"That's a relief. This marriage lark would be really awkward if you didn't,"

He forced himself to laugh and he forced himself to kiss back when Dora pressed her lips to his.

"I know what'll make you feel better," she purred, hooking a leg between his. She kissed him softly, then pecked a row of kisses across his jaw and neck, lapped at his Adam's apple and down to his collar bones. She was sighing against his skin and slipping his jacket off his shoulders, and she kissed him on the mouth again, harder. And Remus hated himself more because this gorgeous girl who adored him was kissing and undressing him, but all he wanted was to push her off and tell her to get herself as far away from him as possible. But it was their wedding night; he could pretend. He'd do whatever she wanted, anything she'd ask-

"Remus?". She'd pulled away abruptly.

"Hmm?"

"What's up?"

"Nothing,"

"What's up?"

"Everything's fine,"

"Are you tired? It's okay, you just lie down and leave it all to me, eh?"

She patted the mattress and winked. He knew that one day soon she wouldn't want him like this. She'd be repulsed at the thought that she ever did. And even then she wouldn't be able to escape; even if she left him (she should) they were married now and she couldn't outrun his reputation.

"Remus?"

This time he could not summon a smile.

"D'you feel alright?"

"It's fine, everything's great," Remus lied unconvincingly, "Hey, where were we?"

He reached for her again but she wasn't an idiot. Her shoulders slumped. "You don't want to, do you?"

"You're my wife. Of course I want to". Wife. He hadn't said it out loud until then. Dora Tonks is his wife. It seemed incomprehensible that this thought could have given him any joy.

"How in the name of Merlin's boxers did you manage as a spy?" Tonks scoffed, "You're a dreadful liar,"

He had no idea how to respond to that. She was the only person other than Molly Weasley who could render him speechless. Eventually, he mumbled, "I don't want to let you down,"

Remus was familiar with the type of pause which followed. It was a pause in which Tonks was restraining herself from snapping at him that he wasn't letting her down, and was thinking of something kind to say instead and to summon an understanding tone to voice it. Remus had heard a lot of that pause.

"Well then," she said briskly, "Shall we talk?"

She scooted away from him, kicked off her shoes and climbed into bed. She was still wearing her wedding dress. "Are you coming?"

Her tone was impatient and when Remus twisted round to look at her face was hard. "Are you sure you don't mind?" he asked.

"Of course I don't mind". Dora's voice was too hasty to be convincing, "If there's one thing I've got used to, it's waiting to have sex with you,"

She was trying to get him to smile but it only made Remus feel worse.

"Hey," she said, scuffing his cheek with her thumb, "This is your wedding night too,"

He wanted to tell her that tonight was supposed to be about _her_.

"Look, we started off just talking, didn't we? Let's pretend we're sitting on the back porch at Grimmauld Place again,"

Remus looked at her, sitting up in bed with her hair the shade of blue she'd insisted on for today, wearing the wedding dress Molly had sewn and giving him that steely look with her Black-glint eyes. She was incredible.

"Alright," he replied softly. He took Sirius' shoes off and placed them carefully beside each other at the side of the bed (Tonks rolled her eyes), hung Sirius' jacket on the back on a chair, and slunk into bed beside her. Tonks shuffled up behind him, wrapped an arm around his waist and rested her chin on his shoulder.

"What d'you want to talk about?" he asked.

"Dunno. Tell me a story. Didn't you come on holiday near here when you were a kid?"

"We came in Inverness once. Why my parents thought it would be a pleasant holiday destination I don't know,"

"Yeah, surely the only place with _worse_ weather than Wales is North Scotland,"

"Wales had beautiful weather, thank you very much," he said, mock-defensive.

"Right, for one day a year," she scoffed.

"But what a day it is," Remus declared. She was right- they were good at talking. Before anything else had happened they'd been two people swapping stories and trying to make one another laugh. That was what he'd first liked about her, wasn't it, that she'd made him laugh?

"Anyway, so you came on holiday to Inverness and it rained the whole time,"

"Not the whole time. One day it snowed,"

"It _snowed_ on your Summer holiday?" Tonks echoed, "You're kidding…".

…They were still talking when rays of sunlight crept in through the curtains.


	11. The Letters From Them

The Letters From Them

 _Dear Teddy,_

 _My darling son, I hope you never read this letter. I hope I return from where I am about to go alive and well and able to spend many long years with you. But if this does not happen, please know how very much I love you. You and your exciting, tough, hilarious Mummy have given me more happiness than I knew possible. There are few reasons why I would willingly risk missing out on being your father, enjoying your company, having fun with you, helping you learn, watching you grow into the marvellous man I know you will be, and showing you every day how much I love you. But the duty to make the world a better place for you to grow up in is, I think, good enough reason. I am doing this for you. One day I hope you will understand and I beg your forgiveness._

 _Know that whatever you choose to do I am proud. I support you and believe in you. And above all I love you. I love you so much, my wonderful son._

 _Always,_

 _Dad._

 _Teddy,_

 _I can't write beautifully like Daddy, but I agree with everything he said. I love you I love you. I hope I get to come home to you very soon. If I don't then I'm really sorry. Grandma and Daddy will look after you so be a good boy for them. Well, maybe not too good, they both need keeping on their toes._

 _We're pretty sure that you are a Metamorphmagus. You're welcome, kid. So I hope you enjoy it and have fun with it. It's nice to be able to make people laugh. You have my permission to use it to get into trouble. I hope you're also like your Dad in some way too, because he's fantastic. And your Grandad. You've got both their names and if you're anything like either of them you're going to be a total knock-out. I should probably tell you some important advice and stuff but my mind's gone blank. Watch out for Wrackspurt. Work hard. Carry Essence of Dittany on you for emergencies/falling over. Be nice to people. De-gnoming is better done manually than with magic._

 _You make me really happy. I hope we get more time together. You're the best little guy. I'm so proud of you._

 _Love you forever,_

 _Mum_

 _Xxxxx xxx xxx kisses times a million_

 _PLEASE STAY SAFE_

Teddy wanted to have the page framed on his bedroom wall but Granny wouldn't let him.

"It'll lose its meaning then, it'll just be something you see when you wake up," she explained.

"No, it won't," Teddy protested forlornly, but he could tell in Granny's tone that this was an argument she wasn't losing.

"We'll keep it in this drawer here," she announced. She folded the page carefully back in its envelope and shut the envelope inside the drawer.

"Tell me how they wrote it again," Teddy pleaded. He liked stories about his parents going to die.

Granny lifted him onto his bed and sat down beside him. "Your Dad realised he had to go to fight so he got his quill out and wrote you a letter. Then he gave you to your Mum and told her to take you to stay with me so that you'd both be safe. Then your Dad gave you a hug-"

"-a big one," Teddy interrupted.

"The biggest hug ever, because he knew he might not be able to do it again," Granny nodded, "He gave you one huge hug to make up for all the others he couldn't give you,"

"And then Daddy Flooed into the fire,"

"Good lad, that's right. Mummy and you came to me but Mummy wanted to fight. She wanted so much to be with you but she knew she had to help her friends fight the bad people,"

"To make the world better for me," Teddy recited.

"Yes. So she opened Daddy's letter and added her bit. And then she went to Hogwarts to join your Dad,"

"But she gave me a big hug too,"

"Lots of hugs and kisses and love," Andromeda nodded. The reality had been completely different. The reality had been Nymphadora appearing in the fireplace clutching the baby and trembling. It had been her choking out to Andromeda what was going on. It had been her pacing, muttering, chewing her sleeves, squeezing Teddy too tight until Andromeda had taken him off her. It had been Nymphadora tearing open the envelope, reading Remus' letter and snarling, "Bastard. Why's he got to be so bloody poetic?".

 _"Don't read what he's written" Andromeda scolds._

 _"But I need to add to it," says Nymphadora, "I'm going with him,"_

 _Andromeda freezes. "You can't," she says, voice suddenly hoarse. No. No no, she can't go, she won't._

 _"Yes I can, and I have to," Nymphadora insists._

 _"You don't know what's happening, you could get yourself killed," Andromeda snaps. Silly girl, she's talking nonsense. She's panicked about Remus and it's making her think of daft ideas._

 _"So could you, so could any of us, any day. Harry needs help. This is it, Mum. This is when we fight back,"_

 _"You've fought enough," Andromeda says firmly. She's worked an Auror for four years, part of the Order for three and been nearly killed by Andromeda's sister twice. Nymphadora has played her part._

 _"There's no such thing, not until this is over. All my friends are there, my husband-"_

 _"What about your_ son? _He's barely four weeks old, he needs you,"_

 _"Yeah, he needs me to stand up for him,"_

 _"He needs you to be his Mummy!" Andromeda shouts. Her brain is whirring and she's starting to shake, too. Nymphadora has always been wilful but this is not the time or place. She cannot be part of this battle. She cannot leave her child._

 _"I hope I can be, Merlin, I hope I can be tomorrow, or whenever this ends. Look after him for me, Mum. Tell him how proud we are of him,"_

 _"Nymphadora-" Andromeda pleads. Her voice is getting more hysterical, more like her big sister's._

 _"I've made my choice, and you know what it is because you made the same one, didn't you? With Dad,"_

 _Dad. Andromeda's husband. Her beautiful Ted. His death still hasn't sunk in- how can it when Andromeda hasn't seen his body? It's as if he'll walk back through the door any minute laughing at her for believing his silly joke. One of the last things he'd said to her before he'd gone on the run was to make Andromeda swear to look after their daughter and the baby. Andromeda_ has _to keep her promise._

 _"I chose my family," she chokes out. She gave up_ _everything for Ted, for Nymphadora. Everything._

 _"So am I," says Nymphadora sadly, "But in a different way,"_

 _Andromeda snaps. "No, you're not, you're being foolish. You've done enough for them, and I'm not letting you leave your month-old son to-_

 _"Mum," Nymphadora whispers, "Please don't make this harder than it already is,"_

 _"WHAT ABOUT ME?!" Andromeda yells, "What about me? I've lost your Dad, I can't lose you as well,"_

 _"You've got him," says Nymphadora, coming over to her to stroke the baby's back, "You've got Teddy,"_

 _"I'm begging you. Please,_ please. _Not you as well. Not you,"_

 _Tears seep from Andromeda's eyes. Not her, not her. She can't lose her husband_ and _her daughter. Not her, anybody but her. Andromeda's shout has woken Teddy, and now he's started to cry._

 _"Mum, I'm sorry, I have to. If I can get Bellatrix-"_

 _"She's nearly killed you twice already!"_

 _Nymphadora looks up at her. "Third time lucky for me," she says. Her voice is toneless._

 _"Your hubris will be the death of you. Do you honestly think-"_

 _"What choice do I have? They've already got Dad, they'll be after you and Remus and Teddy next. I'm his mother, I've got to protect him,"_

No no no. Please no, _Andromeda thinks_ , please don't go. Please, not you, not you _. But her voice is lost in tears and terror, and she cannot get the words out._

 _"I'm protecting you too, and Remus if I can find him there," Nymphadora continues over the sound of her howling baby, "And if I can't, if you see him again before I do, tell him…tell him I love him and that I think he always knew I'd make this choice. And tell him that he was worth it. That's really important, you have to tell him that, Mum. 'You were worth it'- do you promise?"_

 _"I- yes, alright," Andromeda promises, because there's no point arguing about that when she_ has _to persuade Nymphadora to stay, "But listen, can't you-"_

 _"No. I can't, Mum, I really can't,"_

 _Nymphadora's crying too, and Teddy's wails are getting louder and Andromeda can hardly see for tears. This is not happening, this cannot happen. Ted could talk sense into their reckless daughter. Ted would give her his lop-sided smile and say gently, "Don't be a muppet, Dora". Ted would put his arms around Andromeda, tell a daft joke and make everything alright._

 _Ted isn't here._

 _Nymphadora opens the envelope again, grabs a pen from the mantelpiece and starts writing. Andromeda stands there, holding the wriggling, mewling baby, the only person more helpless than her. She shushes him for something to do, and watches as Nymphadora brushes tears from her cheek while she scribbles on the page. Andromeda wipes her own eyes and takes three deep breaths, like she used to when her sisters wound her up. Calm down, calm down. Remus is always calm and composed. Had Nymphadora begged him to stay when he'd left? If that why she wants to go, because she wants to be with her husband? But as besotted as Nymphadora is with him, he can't be the only reason. If this really is the final day of the war, then….no. No. There is no reason good enough for her to go. Never._

 _"Keep him safe," Nymphadora says, looking up from the table. Then she mutters to herself, "Shit, did I write that down?"_

 _She re-opens the envelope, scribbles a few more words at the bottom of the page, shoves the paper back into the envelope and thrusts it at Andromeda._

 _"Keep him safe, Mum,_ please _keep him safe,"_

 _"How am I supposed to do that without you? Without your Dad?" Andromeda wails._

 _Nymphadora smiles lop-sidedly. Ted's smile. "Mum, come on. You don't need us to look after you,"_

 _"Your baby needs you to look after him!". What if they both get themselves killed and Andromeda's left to raise him on her own? She can't possibly…he's four weeks old, she can't, Nymphadora can't leave him…_

 _"I know, I know," Nymphadora nods sadly, "Mum, can I hold him? I need to say goodbye,"_

"Granny, why are you crying?"

He was six years old now. Looked a lot like his Dad but he'd inherited the Black eyes, darling Ted's lop-sided smile and Nymphadora's penchant for multicoloured hair. He liked it turquoise or yellow or Weasley ginger. Sometimes he morphed it pink and when he did and Andromeda glanced at him she sometimes thought it was Nymphadora, ending this silly hiding game and come home to them. And then Teddy would turn around look at her with Remus' face and the moment would shatter. He sometimes said that he missed his Mummy and Daddy, and he got uncomfortable walking into a room full of families, but Andromeda reckoned that he didn't really understand it yet. She knew it would get worse as he grew older.

"Granny! I don't like it when you cry!"

Teddy was gazing up at her with her own eyes, looking worried. Hastily, Andromeda brushed the years from her face, and ruffled Teddy's hair. "Sorry, sweetheart,"

"Why are you crying?" he asked. His voice had a permanent rasp to it, like Remus' had.

"I miss your Mummy," Andromeda told him.

"Oh," Teddy said and sucked his finger, "Me too. But you have me and I have you, Granny, so we're fine,"

He took his finger out of his mouth and her a gap-toothed Ted smile. Sweet boy. Nymphadora would have had so much fun with him. They would have adored each other.

"Yes, we are," Andromeda agreed, lying.

"Mmm," he nodded, bouncing on his toes, "Can we go to the park now?"

He loved the park, and had already stuffed his feet into his trainers. Teddy grabbed Andromeda's hand and pulled her towards the door. Towards the outside. The world. To life.

Andromeda followed.


	12. Wedding Afternoon: Marmalade

Wedding Afternoon: Marmalade

He elbows his way through the crowd to where the cute blonde is eating a slice of lemon cake.

"May I have this dance?" he asks her.

Tonks swallows her cake and glances at the left-hand side of his face, but he claps his hand over it so she can't see his ear, or lack thereof.

"Uh-uh. Guess," he demands.

Tonks looks him up and down. "Fred,"

"Better luck next time," he replies, removing his hand to display the hole where his ear used to be, "Now you _have_ to dance with me,"

"Well, since you ask so nicely how can I resist? Although here's your warning that I'll probably tread on your toes,"

"Looking forward to it," George grins. He holds his hand out to lead her onto the dancefloor. Ginny is jiving with Charlie, Mum is dancing with Rowan Keveny and the Lovegoods are flitting around waving their arms is a bizarre jazz-hands movement. George waves to them and pulls Tonks into hold. The music is upbeat and jumpy, George's favourite type. None of that boring waltz-y malarkey.

"I thought you and Fred were off chasing Veela?" Tonks asks, raising her eyebrows as they begin to dance.

"Oh, we are," George assures her, "We're making a tactical retreat for the moment,"

"Dropped an accidental tonne-tongue toffee again?" she asks wryly.

George is impressed that she's heard that anecdote, and he tells her so. "But not that kind of tactical retreat," he adds, "We're leaving them for a while, playing hard to get. And what better way to do that than to dance with the most beautiful girl at the wedding,"

He winks. She _is_ pretty, he reckons, especially today. Something about her is glowing with happiness. George doesn't have much time for girls who are too serious. His new sister-in-law's a stunner but she takes herself too seriously and doesn't smile often. From what the twins have observed, Ron might be on the cusp of getting somewhere with Hermione (they knew that book would do him good), but George has never understood what Ron sees a bird whose so uptight. Tonks is a fun type of girl, the type who jokes and giggles and explains how to get Extendable Ears through shield charms.

"Somebody's put their flattery hat on today," Tonks notes, "Can you spin me a bit slower, it's like dancing with a drunk Portkey,"

"Right, sorry," he says, slowing down. He's getting used to his missing ear so sometimes his movements can be too sharp and fast. "Anyway, I haven't got my flattery hat on, I'm usually this level of charming. You obviously haven't been paying enough attention,"

 _"You_ not getting enough attention? Fat chance,"

"I'll take that as a compliment. Where's the Prof got to, anyway?" George asks. He's barely seen Lupin all day.

Abruptly, Tonks' expression changes. Her face doesn't fall exactly, but there's a slight dimming of that glow about her. She stiffens in George's arms.

"Um, I'm not sure. I think he was talking to Hagrid,"

George can tell immediately that there's something not right here. He gives her a shrewd look, wondering if he should press it further. They only got married a few weeks ago, they can hardly be having problems already, can they? This is Ginny's area, and George makes a mental note to ask her later. In the meantime he settles on addressing the topic indirectly by shrugging, "Bet your wedding was much less palaver than this,"

Tonks looks relieved at the change of subject, "Yeah, it was really quiet, no dancing or dress robes or anything,"

"No dress robes? Wish I'd gone to yours instead of this one,"

"But there weren't any Veela at our wedding," Tonks points out, "Whoops, sorry. Told you I'd step on your toes,"

"Dress robes and Veela, or no dress robes and no Veela?" George ponders, moving his feet out of her way. The twins had bought new dress robes for the wedding which were a vast improvement on the revolting second-hand ones Mum gave them for the Yule Ball, but the collar and cuffs were tight and the bottom swirled unhelpfully around his feet. But the Veela girls were _dazzling…._

"Come off it, you'd take the Veela. You two don't care what you look like," scoffs Tonks.

"Hey!" George protests, then adds, "Although if you mean that we can pull any look off, however ridiculous, then you do have a point,"

"You're taking to the girl whose idea of fun is turning her mouth into a beak. I'm the queen of ridiculous looks,"

"And you pull them off _ravishingly._ I'm disappointed the pig nose isn't making an appearance today,"

"Might bring it out later," Tonks shrugs.

"I'm looking forward to it," he replies. They reach a corner of the dancefloor and head back the other way.

"Well, watch out for any pigs sneaking up on you while you're getting off with your Veela,"

"I'll give you five sickles if you do that to Fred,"

"Ten,"

"Six,"

"Seven,"

"Done,"

They shake hands, and after the song ends, George announces, "Shall we get a drink?"

He steers Tonks over to the bar, grabs two Firewhiskies, clinks them together, hands one to Tonks and drains his own. Tonks holds onto the glass but doesn't take a sip.

"Drink up," George coaxes.

"I think I'll have juice actually," Tonks says, setting the Firewhiskey down, "I've had enough booze for today,"

 _Boring._ Who knew marriage would make her such a square? "Get a life, Tonks," George groans. But she shrugs and takes a pumpkin juice instead. That's weird- why isn't she bantering back? George isn't sure what's up and Tonks is being oddly evasive, so he continues cajoling.

"You haven't had too much, I've barely seen you drink anything all-"

He stops abruptly as realization slams into his brain. Woah. _Woaaaah._ She's not drinking. She wouldn't let him spin her fast. She's got that happy glow about her.

"Holy Merlin," George breathes, "You're pregnant,"

Tonks smiles. Then her jaw stiffens. She puts her glass down. George's brain is busy whirring with this revelation but he can see that Tonks is calculating how to reply. When eventually she settles on, "Err, yeah," she can't keep the grin from creeping back onto her face.

"Wow," marvels George, "Congratulations,"

"Thanks, George,"

He pulls her into a hug and kisses the top of her head. A baby. _Tonks_ is having a _baby._ Crikey.

"Blimey, you two don't hang about. Only married five minutes and you've already got one in the oven," he observes, releasing her from his embrace.

"To be honest it wasn't entirely planned," she admits.

"The Professor's a speedy operator, eh?". Who'd have thought it of shabby old Lupin? George is impressed. But this time Tonks' face _does_ fall.

"Oh, sorry," George backpedals hastily, "Have you told him?" Surely she must have done, she's hardly going to tell him before she tells her husband.

"Yes," Tonks confirms, and her eyes drop to the floor.

"And?" George prompts.

"And what?"

"Nobody pulls that face unless there's an 'and',"

"There's not," she says defensively.

"Is the Prof not happy about it?"

"George-"

"That's why he's avoiding you," George theorises, "He thinks it's too soon?"

"He's not avoiding me," Tonks snaps, "It's none of your business,"

Blimey. George, who counts himself as an expert on angry tones, has never heard her use that that one before. She sounds stung, too. Was it too personal a question? But of course he's going to be interested; she's his mate. Alright, he's nosey but Tonks knows that and she is too and that's why they get on. She's dealing with a Weasley twin, she knows what they're like. She _likes_ that they're like that.

"I'm your friend, I just-" George begins, but the look Tonks gives him makes him change tack, "Alright, I'm sorry. Forget I said anything,"

Okay, okay, he'll shut up if she's going to be tetchy. George decides immediately that he's gone off this pregnant version of Tonks. Get back to him when the kid's a toddler and ready to have fun with.

Tonks closes her eyes slowly then opens them again. "Could you not tell anybody, George?"

"Oh. Alright, if you want," he says, confused. He rubs the spot underneath his missing ear uneasily.

"Not even Fred,"

Now she's being seriously ridiculous. "Well, I have to tell Fred," George scoffs. They don't keep secrets from each other. Never have, never will.

"I'm serious. We- I- he," she stammers, then seems to give up on a pronoun and continues, "Keeping it quiet. You know, what with everything else going on,"

"Fine, if it's that important to you I won't tell Fred," George promises, although he definitely will. Fred comes above everybody else.

"Thanks," she says stiffly. There's an awkward pause, and then Tonks mutters, "I'm going for a sit down. You'd probably be getting back to your Veela,"

She turns away abruptly.

"Tonks," George calls. She can't leave on _that_ note. George has to know what's going on. He takes a couple of steps to follow but Xeno Lovegood gets in his way with his stupid dancing and by the time George has shooed him out of the way Tonks has merged into the crowd. Usually she's easy to find because of her hair, although today the blonde makes her less conspicuous. George cranes his neck but he can't see her, and the Prof hasn't reappeared either. Merlin, what's up with those two? George grabs another Firewhiskey while he computes it all. He'd been vaguely aware since a couple of years ago that the Prof and Tonks were close mates, but their engagement announcement a few days after Dumbledore's funeral had been a shock. Mum had been having kittens about it of course. And now Tonks is pregnant. The Prof is going to be a _dad_ \- that's a bizarre idea. He's, what, forty? He's a nice chap but a bit of a lone…well, wolf. George can't picture him playing trains or mashing bananas. And how's it going to work out with the werewolf thing? No matter how much of a decent bloke Lupin is, the idea that that's what he is makes George shudder sometimes. And the Metamorphmagus thing? Is Tonks going to give birth to a pink werewolf? Her initial reaction when George worked it out had been to smile so she must be pleased. But Professor Lupin's looking miserable and perhaps avoiding her so George doubts that he's as thrilled. Lupin's a worrier so he's likely to be panicking about baby clothes and burping and all that. He's an adult so he's probably got it into his head that it's not a good idea to bring a baby into the world at the moment. Well, it's not a good idea to run a joke shop either, but WWW has done better than ever this Summer holiday. Everything would be better if they all stopped being so flipping pessimistic. Professor Lupin's concern must be stressing Tonks out too. That's why she was being so Hermione-ishly waspish. She's normally like his ballsy big sister and George can't imagine her as a parent either (surely she'll drop the kid?). He needs to run this by Fred. George understands everything better once he's talked it through with Fred even if they're both as nonplussed as each other.

George grabs an extra Firewhiskey for his twin, checks his reflection in the glass in case he bumps into the Veela girls on the way, and sets off to find him. The abundance of Weasleys here today means that it's less easy to pick out a specific redhead. If Fred's snuck back early and nabbed George's Veela he'll hex him. It'd be very Fred to cheat like that. George scouts around for him by the desert station and the gate and the suspiciously spotless chicken coup. He's about the investigate inside the house to see if Fred's disappeared in there, when a familiar voice yelps at him.

"George, there you are. I need to talk to you- I've just been with the Prof and he was really weird with me, there's definitely something up,"

Fred is standing behind him also holding two glasses of Firewhiskey and looking perturbed.

"Did he tell you?" George asks, swapping his extra glass with Fred's.

"Tell me what? He didn't say much,"

A grin splits George's face. "Oh, Fred. Oh brother mine, do I have news for you…".

* * *

 **This chapter was lots of fun to write, so thanks for taking the time to read. Feedback has been a bit thin on the ground lately so I'd really appreciate it if you reviewed this chapter, or any other chapters. Thank you so much.**


	13. ANX

**Set in about November of** ** _DH._** **Warning for nightmariness.**

ANX

Tonks knocks on the door of her childhood bedroom, and her husband says, "Come in". Since Dad left Remus has been sleeping in her old bedroom, while she sleeps in bed with Mum. Andromeda put up a fight and tried to insist that she would be alright on her own but they all knew it was a lie, and Tonks didn't want to leave her alone with her worries at night. Besides, there's safety in numbers these days.

Tonks pushes the door open and walks in, then blinks at the neon walls. For her eighth birthday Dad decorated her room with magic paint which changed colour every day like her hair does. Remus' clothes hang on a single rail in the corner (he insisted on letting her keep her wardrobe) and a few of his favourite books, the ones he hasn't left behind in the flat, are stacked on the floor beside the bed. When he moved into her flat in July seeing his stuff beside hers seemed natural and exciting. It's much weirder to see him living in her old bedroom. Not uncomfortable, just strange. It's also strange to see him standing in his grey nightshirt and black bottoms against the bright orange wall. He's facing away from her, leaning both hands on the windowsill as he looks out into the night. Tonks takes a moment to admire how he looks in his pyjamas, something she's missed since they haven't been sharing a bed. Most of all she misses how rumpledly sexy he is in the mornings.

"Remus?" she prompts, after a moment.

He glances round. "Hello," he says distractedly. His smile is wan but it still makes her heart miss a beat.

"Wotcher. What's up?" she asks.

Remus eyes dart around the room for a couple of seconds, and then meet hers as he confesses, "I'm scared."

Her heart droops, and Remus grimaces apologetically. Tonks knows that he isn't ashamed of admitting fear, but he doesn't like giving people more to worry about than he has to. She walks over to him, knocking over his stack of books as she passes the bed. She hugs her husband from behind, crossing her arms around his waist; he likes it when she does that. She likes making him feel safe. One of the good things to come out of this living arrangement is that Mum's a great cook, so Remus has _finally_ put on some weight. He feels fuller around the middle and arms aren't so skinny.

"We'll be alright," she says, and presses a kiss to the spot between his shoulder-blades. In a few weeks' time when she holds him like this he'll be able to feel the curve of her stomach where their child's growing.

"I'm afraid they're going to come after me next," he whispers.

"Good luck to them if they do," Tonks scoffs, sounding braver than she feels, "They'll have to get past me first,"

"It'll be half-breeds after Muggle-borns,"

"I'll protect you,"

"What about the baby?"

"I'll protect the baby," she says, clicking her tongue, "Multi-tasking,"

Remus forces a laugh and Tonks squeezes him harder, pressing her face against his back. She can't protect him in her dreams. In her dreams he's torn away from her by Death Eaters and Tonks is frozen to the spot, only able to shout at the masked crowd to stay away from him, please don't hurt him. Bellatrix is cackling and Greyback is gnashing his teeth and the rest of them are jeering at Remus as they shove him and hit him and yank at the wolf tail that's growing out of his human back.

" _Don't touch him_ ," she pleads, " _Leave him alone, hurt me instead, my father's a Muggle-born and my mother betrayed the Blacks!_ "

That turns out to be the worst thing to say because Remus has suddenly become her parents, who are writhing on the ground as Bellatrix dances around them and whooping hysterically as she twirls her wand.

" _Mum! Dad_!" Tonks tries to scream, but a child's voice comes out instead of her own, and she knows that it's her baby screeching for her. The baby that is being ripped out of her stomach by Greyback.

" _Mummy! Mummy!_ " the baby squeals, and Tonks is begging, screaming at the masked crowd.

" _Not my baby! Please, please, I'll do whatever you want, do anything but please don't hurt the baby, NOT MY BABY_!"

She wakes up then, panting and sweating, with Mum shaking her and grabbing her hands and saying, "It's a dream Nymphadora, a dream. Look, I'm here, you're with me,"

She clutches her stomach, "The baby?"

"The baby's fine,"

Tonks had been so excited when she first found out, but as time's gone on she isn't sure that she likes being pregnant. Before, it was her who rubbed Remus' back and massaged his knuckles and neck when he was achy. It was her and Dad who made jokes- Mum and Remus were the worriers. Jokes don't seem so funny nowadays. It was Remus who rested his head in her lap while she sifted her fingers through his hair. It used to be Mum who was the cantankerous one but now it's Tonks whose waspish and impatient. She's prone to tears a lot too, which only makes her more frustrated at herself. Mum and Remus think they need to look after her, and it makes her feel helpless and childlike. And guilty, because Mum shouldn't be fussing over her when she's got Dad to worry about. (The weeks since he went away are becoming months. They weren't expecting to hear anything from him but it doesn't lessen the anxiety).

"What about you? Are you alright?" Remus asks, back in the bedroom. He leans back against her a little, returning the pressure. There's the example right there, Tonks notes- before she was pregnant it was always her who asked him that and assured him that everything was okay.

"Suppose so," she mumbles. She doesn't tell him about the nightmares because he knows already. She doesn't tell him how redundant pregnancy is making her feel- she will, one day, although not now because she hasn't worked out how to verbalise it yet, and because he's already feeling scared.

"Perhaps you should go to bed," Remus suggests after a pause, like _she's_ the one who needs taking care of. A few months ago Tonks would have rolled her eyes or snapped at him for fussing, but she's trying to do less of that these days. Remus turns around to face her and leans his back against the window sill. The smile he gives her is more amused and genuine this time.

"Desperate to get rid of me?" she needles him.

Remus lets out a chuckle and tilts forward to press his mouth to hers. His lips are always soft and his kisses, however they end up, always start lightly. Tonks expects this one to be a chaste goodnight kiss but he lingers, drapes an arm around her waist and pulses his mouth against hers.

Tonks pulls away, grinning. "So you _don't_ want me to go to bed?"

His eyes are closed and his lips are half-open. "Maybe in five minutes," he mumbles, and then his mouth finds hers again. He runs his lips over her jaw and cheek, up into her hair (blonde today), and his hands stroke her waist and stomach. Sometimes he presses his head against there to see if he can feel anything, but so far Tonks has only felt the baby lurch inside her a couple of times. Molly reckons that first babies are lazier than later ones, and that she could barely feel Bill until she was five months gone but Ron was shifting around all over the place after barely ten weeks.

Remus kisses her on the mouth again, slowly, and sucks on her bottom lip. This, Tonks muses as she wedges a leg between his, is definitely one thing that's changed for the better. Remus is calmer about all this- kissing, being touched, intimacy, his body- nowadays than he's ever been before. He seems to feel less guilt about it and that, she thinks selfishly, has made him a better kisser, a better lover, a better husband.

When Remus eventually lets her go with a final kiss to the temple, Tonks reaches a hand up to his hair, runs it through his curls and asks, "Feel less scared?"

His face darkens slightly. "Hmm,"

"Is that a no?"

"Yes,"

"I told you, I'll protect you. Nobody's going to mess with you once they know you've got a big bad Auror as your bodygaurd,"

"Hmm," he says again. He sounds unconvinced but she lets it go and moves away from him. Remus climbs into her old bed and pulls the sparkly purple duvet cover up to his chest.

"I'll be nextdoor if you need me" Tonks reminds him. She tells him that every night even though there's no point- he doesn't like to disturb either her or Mum during the night, and it'd take a lot for any man to want to sleep in the same room as his mother-in-law.

Remus catches her hand, presses it to his mouth and mutters, "I always need you,"

Merlin, was that a line? Remus Lupin using _lines?_ Has he been reading that book of Fred and George's? Tonks could rib him with this, but he's being sweet so she just scoffs, "Flattery will get you anywhere. G'night,"

"Night,"

She heads into the corridor, blows him a kiss, and shuts the door behind her. The white corridor walls seem bland all around. Tonks dismisses the thought as just the contrast from the neon orange. But perhaps, she realises, walking down the corridor towards her parents' room, perhaps it seems bland because Remus isn't out here with her.


	14. Wedding Afternoon: Jam

Wedding Afternoon: Jam

Guilt must have a sense of humour, because Nymphadora Tonks is dancing with George Weasley. The boy who has sustained a horrible injury because of Remus, and the girl who he's consigned to a life in poverty and exile, now with a werewolf pup to boot, are chatting and chuckling as they spin each other around the dancefloor in the Weasley's back garden. Remus is resisting the temptation to punish himself by watching them, so is instead concentrating very hard on the back of Viktor Krum's head while Krum talks to Hagrid. If only, Remus tells himself, he could have resisted temptation like this when it came to Tonks. He'd tried to push her away, but eventually gave in to lust and stupidity and selfishness. Now look where that's lead. Marrying her was bad enough, but now he's knocked her up, lumbered her with a half-breed husband and a God-knows-what child. And the worst part is that she's so happy about it. Dora's been glowing since she found out about the baby a few days ago; laughing louder than usual and touching him all the time. Remus wants to scream at her that she shouldn't be smiling about it, she should be terrified. This is a catastrophe. Last night he'd mentioned terminating the pregnancy and Dora had looked horror-struck. He'd wanted to snap that it wasn't an appalling idea; people did it all the time. She was only a few weeks gone, so although she kept saying "the baby" it was hardly more than a clump of cells at the moment. A tumour. It needed to be wiped out like a tumour, but he'd known from Tonks' face last night that she'd never agree to it. _I'm having this baby,_ she'd told him, and when Dora had made her mind up about something woe betide anybody who tried to change it. He'd learnt that the hard way.

Then there's the boy she's dancing with, one of a pair of twins now missing one of his pair of ears. Remus knows that what happened wasn't entirely his fault, but he replays it on loop in his mind, asking himself what could he have done differently. If he'd glanced behind himself at the right moment, if he'd reminded George that being Harry's weight and size would affect his manoeuvrability, if he'd dodged the Death Eaters by flying higher instead of diving. Thestrals had been deemed the safest way to fly and Remus had thought that he'd been being helpful by saying that he'd travel by broomstick instead. What a stupid idea, he realised now. He wasn't a strong flier; he should have known he'd make mistakes in the air. He should have thought more of George, barely a year out of school- why hadn't Remus insisted on going by Thestral to keep him safe? And he'd ended up almost getting the boy killed. The twins joke about the hole in George's head, but everybody else winces when they see it. It's ghastly and surely it'll end up getting infected or causing some sort of problem in the future? A cheerful nineteen-year-old lad and Remus hadn't been able to stop him getting this dreadful injury.

Remus takes a sip of pumpkin juice and stares at Krum. He feels awful and, ironically, the only person who could make him feel better is half the reason he's feeling awful in the first place. He wants Tonks to come over and hug him from behind and tell him, like she sometimes does, "Don't worry, daft thing. We're going to be alright". He wants her to run her thumb over his cheek and sift her hands through his hair. He wants her to look at him with her mischievous smile and her eyes with that mad Black glint in them and tell him whatever bonkers thought is in her head. He wants-

"They're both flying way above their height with us, eh?" says a voice. Remus glances round to see Fred Weasley slipping into the seat beside him. He helps himself to Remus' glass and takes a sip, but pulls a face and puts it back down when he realises that it isn't alcoholic. Then he crosses one leg over the other and glances over at where Tonks and George are dancing.

"I thought you were off mingling with Fleur's Veela cousins?" Remus asks grumpily. He can't be bothered with Fred Weasley right now.

"Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen, Professor," Fred trills. Remus shoots him a confused look and Fred elaborates, "I'm leaving them be for half an hour or so, pretend I've got some deeply important business to attend to. Make them wait for me. Girls are into it," he says wisely.

"What if they use that half-hour to find somebody else?" Remus asks. He vaguely hopes that this will make Fred go back to his Veela and leave him alone, but the boy seems to have thought this all through.

"They might," Fred shrugs, "But it's a wedding; there's plenty of birds to go around. What are you doing? Don't you dance?" Fred demands.

"I've already danced," Remus says. It isn't entirely untrue- Dora had dragged him up there earlier and he'd managed one song before shrugging her off.

"You're not dancing now. Come on, I'll help you find someone-" says Fred, leaping to his feet.

"I'm fine thanks, Fred,"

Remus expects Fred to ignore this and continue to ramble, but instead he looks shrewdly at Remus and sits back down.

"Something wrong, Prof? You look like someone's fed your Pygmy Puff to Fang". It's four years since he taught them, but twins still insist on calling Remus 'Professor' or 'The Prof'. Remus suspects that they reckon it winds him up, but actually he finds it rather charming.

"It's nearly full moon," Remus explains, even though the full moon is actually nine days away. Being a werewolf is beyond dreadful, but at least it gives him a ready-made excuse for being reluctant and distant.

"I call bull on that, sir, the full moon's at the end of next week," Fred chirps.

Bugger. How on Earth does _Fred_ know that? Remus looks at him questioningly.

"George and I need to know it to pick moonflower roots for our daydream charms," he shrugs, "So. What's bothering you?"

Remus tries to think of something to say to divert the conversation, but Fred follows his gaze and theorises, "Well, you're obviously looking everywhere apart from your wife and my brother, so it's going to be something to do with them. George isn't going to steal your bird, if that's what you're worried about. He's got his own Veelas to attend to,"

"Right. Good to know," Remus mutters disinterestedly.

But then Fred says abruptly, "Does his ear bother you, sir?"

Remus turns to him. Fred's face is the most serious Remus has ever seen it.

"Don't beat yourself up about it, okay? We all knew what we were getting ourselves in for, joining the Order, fetching Harry that night. Me and George have talked it through hundreds of times and we agree it's worth it. Neither of us would have done it if the other one didn't want to, and we've thought it through and we do want to. So don't get thinking it's your fault,"

Remus almost gapes at him after this rather perplexing speech. He hadn't expected such a thoughtful and generous response. And Fred's right, isn't he- the twins are jokesters but they're not idiots, and they know exactly the risks they're taking on. Remus shouldn't have dismissed him.

"Thanks, Fred," he says at last.

"S'alright," the boy nods, looking oddly noble until he adds, "I mean, it's not a leg or a hand or a bollock, is it?"

"No, it's certainly not a bollock," Remus agrees, smirking in spite of himself.

"It's only an-" but Fred cuts himself off abruptly and looks down at his shoes.

"Fred?" Remus prompts, confused.

"It's only an ear," the boy whispers. When he looks up again, his face is completely different, "It's not really though, is it, sir?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Look, I said it wasn't your fault, and it isn't but …it's- it's not exactly easy," Fred mumbles. Remus has never heard him sound so hesitant. He says nothing and waits for Fred to continue. "I don't like not being identical. Our entire lives it's been Fred-and-George, 'Which one are you?', 'I can never tell you two apart'. That's our identity. Ironic, isn't it? And now, well, now we're not,"

Remus feels pity sink in his stomach. He hadn't thought about this before- it must be so bizarre and bewildering for Fred.

"Fred. I'm so sorry. I suppose everybody's been asking how George is but not you,"

"I'm not jealous," Fred replies quickly, "I'm…sad. I feel a bit betrayed, like he's left me somehow,"

"That makes sense," says Remus immediately, because it does. Of course it would seem to Fred like being left behind. Losing a piece of his identity. Being an identical twin is an unusual relationship, especially twins as close as Fred and George, so for an obvious physical change to happen to one of them must feel huge. It _is_ huge.

"Have you spoken to George about this?" Remus asks.

"Of course," responds Fred, sounding mildly offended at the question.

"And what does he say? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to,"

"Nah, it's okay. He gets it, but it's different because it's _happened_ to him, hasn't it? I'm the one left behind. I'm not used to that. And the identical thing…I feel a bit exposed. Nobody to hide behind,"

"You think you hide behind him?" Remus asks, surprised.

"Nah. But we…I dunno, it's hard to explain. You know how we are, sir,"

"Yes, I do," Remus smiles.

"Well, we're not like that anymore, are we?" Fred gazes dejectedly at his feet and finishes, "It's not your fault, okay?"

Remus looks at him and tries to believe his words, words which were unexpected from Fred Weasley's mouth. Inamongst the guilt and sympathy and inner turmoil, Remus feels strangely proud of him.

"Fred, I never-"

"-though I was that sensitive? We keep it well hidden,"

"No, I was going to say I never agreed with Professor Sinistra that the two boys who never did their homework in fifth year were going to become good-for-nothing wastrels. I'm pleased to say I was right,"

"Oh, Professor Lupin, you make me blush," says Fred, fanning himself mock-girlishly. Then he twigs an eyebrow and prods, "Anyway, now I've told you _my_ woes, what about you? Trouble in paradise?"

"Everything's fine," says Remus, then grimaces at how tart his voice sounds.

Fred gives him a sceptical look. "Sir. Come on. It's obvious that y-"

"You're not going to get any gossip out of me because there's nothing to tell," Remus informs him. He crosses his arms, then realises it looks too defensive and unfolds them quickly. He shouldn't have interrupted either. Merlin, he doesn't know how to handle any of this.

"Fine, don't tell me," Fred sniffs, "Nothing stays quiet round here for long and we all know Tonks can't keep her trap shut,"

Remus glares at him but Fred ignores it, stands up and announces testily, "If you'll excuse me, I've got Veela to attend to, and you've obviously got a busy schedule moping. Thanks for the heart-to-heart,"

"No, it's-"

"If you weren't too busy feeling sorry for yourself you'd realise that I'm asking because we all want to help you, not cos I want to take the piss," Fred tells impatiently. _If you weren't too busy feeling sorry for yourself…_ Dora had said something similar to him a long time ago, hiding in the attic of the house nextdoor to the Averys'. Remus isn't sure if she'd been right. He wants to ask Fred what he means- who else can tell something's wrong? (He doesn't like the idea of people talking about thme). What have they been saying? What do they think they can do to help?

"Fred, listen-"

Remus jumps to his feet, but Fred's already disappeared into the crowd.


	15. One

**This chapter is set in March of _Order of the Phoenix,_ and owes a bit to Lupin's Pottermore bio, written (obviously), by JK Rowling. All rights belong to JK, I'm just playing her sandbox.**

One

It's eleven days since she saw him. Eleven days since they'd had that stupid argument and she'd blurted out how she feels about him, sort of, but it hadn't been anything like how Tonks imagined saying it. When she pictured telling Remus how much she likes him, they'd been happy and relaxed, on the back porch at Grimmauld or in the pub. In reality, she and Remus been cold and tired stuck in a cramped attic. Remus said the most ludicrous thing she'd ever heard, and she'd snapped at him. He'd been flummoxed and mortified, and that had made Tonks more irate, and she'd snarled at him to shut up. They hadn't said a word for the rest of the watch. That was eleven days ago now- Tonks seen him twice at meetings and he's ignored her. Then the full moon came, and Remus disappeared like he usually did. She'd been half-tempted to come over the morning after the full moon- that'd put the cat among the pigeons- but she knew that that would be cruel. And she could never be cruel to him.

That was Thursday night- it's Monday now, so Remus has had long enough for him to recover (Tonks asked Sirius, so she knows that for a fact). Tonks has rushed from to Grimmauld Place in her lunch hour, knowing that Remus is often here at this time. He's mostly lived at Grimmauld for the past few months to keep Sirius sane. Babysitting Sirius isn't always a fun job, but of course Remus does it without complaint, because he's helpful and selfless like that. He wouldn't see hanging out with his best friend as a duty, even if that best friend is tetchy and surly and banned from leaving his house. Sirius has been in a mood for the past week and has mostly shut himself away in Buckbeak's room. Which in this case is helpful, as it means Tonks can talk to Remus without Sirius getting in the way.

Automatically, she heads through the drawing room and kitchen to the back porch- their place, where she and Remus used to meet up to chat. Well, Tonks realises, it was Remus' place first. She'd turned up there one morning and invaded. Is that how all this looks from his point of view? She hadn't thought of this like that before. Perhaps she should have done- she _certainly_ should have thought about it before snapping at him that night at the Avery's. That comment about Sirius was bonkers, but " _If_ _you weren't too busy feeling sorry for yourself to notice,"_ hadn't been a helpful response either. Tonks has replayed the scene over and over in her memory during the past eleven days, and she can't help but reckon that she came off presumptuous. Realistically, has Remus done anything to suggest that he fancies her? He's so bloody vague so it's hard to tell. What if Tonks has been projecting her own feelings for him as feelings he might have for her, but doesn't? What if she's been misreading for months? But if she has, Remus needs to tell her that. They need to clear the air, and if he isn't interested she'll back off.

Tonks' stomach lurches when she sees him sitting on the porch step, elbows on his knees. He's got his back to her, leaning against the right-hand side of the French window, but Tonks can imagine the thoughtful, concentrated look on his face. He'll be musing on something clever and important that she'll never have thought about. Remus is always teaching her stuff, not in a patronising professor way. He knows about loads of subjects, so Tonks learns stuff by osmosis through chatting with him.

Tonks slides open the left-hand door of the French window and steps out onto the porch.

"Wotcher,"

Remus jolts, swivelling round. His jaw slackens with surprise, but his eyes are unreadable.

"Hello," he mutters eventually. Then he leaps to his feet and begins to mumble something about being busy, so Tonks cuts in with:

"I want to apologise for the other night,"

"I need to go and-"

"I'm sorry I got angry, but it was such a daft thing for you to say, me falling for Sirius," Tonks tells him, unable to hide the snigger in her voice. It's preposterous to the point of funny, "You know that, don't you?"

"I know, I'm sorry. It was ridiculous. And insulting. I apologise if I upset you," Remus rattles off, nodding. He apologises far too much. Tonks suspects he feels comfortable when he's apologising to somebody. And if he needs to _make_ himself feel more comfortable right now, well, he must be flustered by her bringing up the other night, which must mean….what? This man is completely frustrating.

"It's fine," Tonks tells him, then adds hurriedly, "I was wondering if you want to go for a drink tonight,"

Remus stares at her as if she had asked if he wants to pot-holing in Transylvania tonight.

"I asked Mad-Eye and he says you're not down for any jobs, and my Mum's coming over to see Sirius, so you won't be needed here," Tonks recites. She's done her homework on this.

Remus goggles for another couple of moments, then regains himself and says hoarsely, "That's a kind offer, although it would be inappropriate for you to be seen out with me,"

"Since when do I care about appropriate? It's just a drink. No pressure, no expectation, just a drink," she promises. Well, perhaps _some_ expectation. Maybe. Hopefully.

"I can't," Remus murmurs.

"Why not?" Tonks demands, trying to keep the whine out of her tone.

"Because I promised that I'd stay away from you,"

"Promised who?"

"Myself," Remus answers. Tonks wasn't expecting that.

"Why?"

Her brain is whirring- if he's promised himself he'll stay away from her, that must mean that he doesn't _want_ to stay away from her. He wants to be near her and be with her.

"It isn't a good idea for us to be seen together," Remus re-iterates, squirming.

"I'll change my face," Tonks suggests.

"No, thank you. Thank you for inviting me, but I can't," he decides, in a business-like tone that's bordering on cold.

"For goodness sake, it's just a drink to clear things up," Tonks snaps. One conversation to work out where they stand, and then they can go back to being friends.

"Please don't be angry with me," Remus says in a small voice.

"What if you came over to mine, then?" she improvises, "Same conversation, just inside at my place and not in public,"

They need to talk at some point. They can't leave it like this, especially now he's said that he promised himself he'd avoid her. So many questions, so much needs clearing up, so much _could_ happen, Tonks reckons, if only Remus didn't have so many unnecessary rules for himself. She could show him that he needn't be so hard on himself. She could help him loosen up and have more fun. Perhaps she could make him happier.

He says nothing.

"Remus," Tonks prompts.

He closes his eyes, grimaces and says softly, "Alright,"

Tonks could almost cheer. She wants to say _thank you thank you thank you_ but instead, she chirps, "Brilliant. I'll be home from work about six, so I'll see you at seven? Here, I'll write down my address,"

She scrabbles in her pockets for a pen and a piece of parchment, but all she can find is a crumpled receipt from Florian Fortescue's. Remus, looking surprised at what he's doing, takes a quill and a notebook out from his inside jacket pocket. Of course he carries stuff like that, Tonks observes fondly.

"Thanks," she mutters, taking the both and jotting down her address, "You can Floo in, I don't mind,"

Remus makes a non-committal shrug.

"Brilliant. I'll see you tonight," she chirps.

"Yes," he says. He meets her eye for the first time, and Tonks is sure she can see the trace of a smile in his expression.

"Brilliant," she repeats, then adds, "Bye," and escapes back into the kitchen before he can change his mind.

* * *

Bloody Camelot, he's nervous. It's years since Remus has done this with anybody, even longer since with a woman. He doesn't know what to wear, or what to bring, or what to say, or what she wants from this evening, or why he agreed to go in the first place. He should have told Tonks no thank you, he's got work to do and he doesn't need to talk things through with her because there's nothing to say. Usually Remus finds restraint easy; he's had years to perfect self-control. But this fascinating, bemusing witch who is too young and too successful and too whole for him makes him lose grip on that restraint. And the worst part is that letting himself say yes felt glorious.

It's ten past six and he's standing in front of his wardrobe, trying to choose something to wear. That isn't an easy assignment, as Tonks has seen every shirt-jumper-jacket-trousers combination he owns. Remus remembers Draco Malfoy and Marcus Flint sneering audibly at his ragged clothes as they passed him in the Hogwarts corridors. That didn't bother him then, although now he wishes that he had another outfit or a different shirt- anything to look like he's made an effort and that he cares about tonight. But he doesn't have any outfits for special occasions, or enough special occasions to warrant having a different outfit for. The only other clothes in Remus' wardrobe are his pyjamas, and the threadbare jogging bottoms and hoody he hauls himself into the morning after a full moon.

Dejectedly, Remus sits down on the bed and sighs, as thoughts about what Tonks is going to wear sneak into his mind. Will she stay in the skirt and oversized t-shirt she was wearing earlier, or will she put on a dress or…whatever it is that someone like her would wear for a whatever-this-is. He imagines Tonks looking into her wardrobe like he is now (her wardrobe is probably about twenty times the size of his), choosing an outfit she reckons he'll like, pulling her t-shirt off, slipping out of her skirt… _stop it. Stop picturing her like that,_ he tells himself sternly. He's a dirty old man, and presumptuous at that, to entertain the idea that she would pick out an outfit while thinking about him. It'd be laughable if it wasn't so rude. He should stop being pre-occupied with Tonks, and start concentrating on his own damn clothes. Although he knows that if it was possible to make himself stop thinking about Tonks from willpower alone, he would have done it weeks ago. He promised himself he would on Ash Wednesday, but fate- or, more accurately, Order observation rota- intervened, and he'd said that idiotic thing about Sirius, and now here he is, fretting about what to wear when he goes to her flat tonight, and everything that'll follow after.

 _What about a tie?_ Remus considers. There's four hanging on the end of the wardrobe rail- one black, one grey and two navy. He's needed them for a few jobs in the past, and he wore them when he was teaching. At least it'll look like he's tried, even if his range of ties only come in funeral colours. Remus picks the navy one with red dots on, which he reckons means that he should wear a red shirt. He has two, which are equally battered- one's too large and one is too small. Remus holds them both up to establish which one looks smarter. Maybe the oversized one. He pulls off his jumper and puts the red shirt on over his black t-shirt, and then the tie. Looks himself over in the mirror. Remembers that Tonks likes bright colours, so she might like the red. Tells himself not to think of that.

Remus wonders if wearing a navy tie means he should wear navy trousers, or if that's too matchy? This is the sort of thing Sirius knew about, Remus recalls, back when they were teenagers. But Sirius cares less and less about what he looks like these days, and there was no way Remus was going to tell him about what's happening tonight. Padfoot had been sulking in Buckbeak's room when Tonks turned up earlier, and when Sirius emerged later in the afternoon Remus had had to pretend that nothing interesting had happened that the house that day.

Remus shrugs, changes into a pair of black corduroy trousers, clips on his braces and loops them up over his shoulders. Difficult to go wrong with black. Now onto the next problem- what to take. He's got to bring a present to show he's grateful, and so if it all goes horribly wrong then at least he's been polite. Flowers and chocolates are both too like boyfriend presents, so obviously must be avoided like Dragonpox. Besides, Remus doubts that Tonks is the sort of person who likes flowers. They both like a drink or two, but Remus is concerned that bringing a bottle will look like he's trying to get her drunk. No, that's ridiculous- she's young but she isn't a child. He's got tipsy with her himself, although every time that's happened Padfoot has been there to finish off a third (or, more realistically, half) of the bottle. Padfoot, who, Remus remembers, Molly had got herself into a state about regarding his drinking, and from whose cellar she had confiscated all the alcohol. Mrs Weasley had shoved the bottles of wine into the bewildered hands of every Order member who'd been present. Sirius shoved his hands in his pockets and scowled that Remus would buy him more- which Remus had done. Padfoot's drinking wasn't as much as a problem as Molly insisted, and Remus was surely allowed to give his best friend some fun. Bringing the confiscated bottle to Tonks' would be fun too, perhaps.

Remus heads down to his kitchen and opens his wine cupboard, which is also his breadbin, his fruit bowl, and his crockery cupboard. There are three bottles from the Grimmauld Place buttery in there- two white and a red. Remus chooses the white. Harder to go wrong with white, he reasons, especially as Tonks is likely to spill something. He laughs out loud at the thought. That's the strange thing- inamonsgt all the worry and the guilt, he finds that he can't help but look forward to tonight.

* * *

He loves chocolate. She's heard him claim it's for Dementors, and it's true that chocolate _is_ a remedy for having seen one, but no amount of Dementors warrants the amount that Remus keeps in his pockets and in the kitchen cupboards at Grimmauld. Sometimes he acts all wise and grown-up, so it makes Tonks smirk to see sensible Professor Lupin dig a chocolate bar out of his jacket and start munching away. She wasn't sure whether to buy a bottle of wine for tonight. Remus likes a drink, but she doesn't want to seem as if she wants to get him drunk. He probably reckons she's been too pushy about this whole thing; he might not even come, she's probably been kidding herself about him this whole time. The infuriating thing about being a Black is that it's very easy to come across as arrogant regardless of what you're actually feeling. Anyway, chocolates had seemed a safer option.

Tonks opens the box of Wizochoc and sets them out on the table, then wonders if it doesn't make sense to have an open box of chocolates out before he gets here. Will it look like they've been on the coffee table, open, for ages? She shuts the box. She's tidied up the front room a bit, but tidying charms tend to flick things back in neat but unexpected places- shoes in a neat row beside the bed, for example, when frankly Tonks much prefers them lumped by the door. She's on the early shift at work tomorrow, so faffing around looking for stuff at five AM won't be ideal. As a result, the front room looks half-heartedly tidied, but Tonks supposes that that's better than nothing. Besides, Remus knows her well enough not to imagine that her flat will be spotless. On first impression, he comes across as neat and punctual, but he's more disorganised and fun than that, as the secret chocolate in his pockets can attest to. Remus' handwriting is scrawling and spidery and he often has ink smudged on his hands and cuffs. He sleeps late, so he sometimes needs to rush to get to places on time- it's a pain for anyone who's on early morning Order duty with him. Tonks thinks it's adorable.

In the bedroom, she changes out of the oversized Green Day t-shirt she'd been wearing under her Auror robes all day, and into something more fancy (although knowing Remus, he probably won't notice). Tonks finds herself tidying the bedroom with her wand, even though Remus is unlikely to go in there tonight. The thought makes her feel flustered, and Tonks snaps at herself internally to stop being so silly. She can't act like a giddy little girl or a randy teenager tonight. She'll have to be sophisticated and composed and say clever things…. but in all the time she's known Remus, she's never tried to be or do that. He'd be bemused if she started acting different. For goodness sake, she thinks, she's over-complicating this. She'll just have to be herself and talk to him as normal. Remus is usually dead easy to talk to. But the kind of talking she wants- needs- to do with him tonight isn't the type of talking they usually do. Tonks gets the impression that Remus hasn't done this type of "talking" in a while. Or at least only with Sirius, which is a whole different kettle of worms. How bizarre of Remus to say that thing about her falling for Sirius, when it's _Remus_ who has the complicated romantic history with him. Was he jealous? Has she been misreading everything catastrophically wrong and Remus still fancies _Sirius?_ Oh God…but no, they can't, they've had months living under the same roof so if anything was going to happen it would have done by now, wouldn't it? Sirius Black isn't one to wait around. Plus, he's been teasing her about Remus for weeks, which would be a bonkers thing to do if Sirius still fancied him. Yeah, Tonks tells herself, there's nothing going on between the two of them anymore. No way.

She sits down on the bed and glances at the clock. Six-fifty-three. She can't wait 'til Remus gets here, partly because she's always eager to see him, but mostly because once he's here she can stop waiting and wondering and worrying. She sighs. He'd feel awful if he knew how nervous he makes her.

* * *

Remus apparates behind a post-box at the end of the street, straightens up and heads down the road towards the address Tonks scribbled down for him earlier _: Flat 1B,_ _74 Creskey Road._ It's a Muggle flat (Auror safety regulation) and Tonks is on the ground floor- she sometimes talks about her neighbour, Mrs Alam, who has a bad back and a fake posh accent. Tonks sometimes performs impressions of her- one of the many things she does which Remus finds himself chuckling too hard at. He isn't sure if tonight he'll let himself laugh more tonight, since nobody else will be around, or less, since nobody else will be around. The front door of Number 74 is right on the street with no pathway leading up to it. Remus hesitates for a moment, knowing that it isn't too late to turn around and apparate back home to safety, where there are no fascinating, bemusing witches who delight him and daze him. But he promised that he'd come tonight, and the feeling of being delighted and dazed is irresistible, and Remus jams his thumb into the little box marked 1B. It buzzes with an ugly, electronic sound (Arthur Weasley would be pleased). The door takes forever too open and the door opens far too quickly, and suddenly she's there in front of him. She's wearing the denim skirt she was in earlier, but she's put on a different top. It's blue and sparkly and Remus wishes he wasn't noticing how tight it is.

"Wotcher, Remus," Tonks chirps, "Didn't expect you to come in the door,"

"I didn't want to be rude," he says. His voice sounds hoarser than usual, so he clears his throat, but Tonks starts speaking at the same time:

"Nonsense, I told you that you could Floo in. Actually, never mind, whatever," she gabbles. Remus stops coughing and they stare at each other uneasily in the silence than follows.

"Well, you're here now. Come in. Umm, this is the hall to the flats, and there's the stairs. Obviously. And here's my door," Tonks ploughs on. She leads Remus inside the building, points unnecessarily at the white door with _1B_ on the front, and pushes it open. She seems jumpy, Remus observes. Why wouldn't she be- she's bringing a werewolf into her home.

"So! This is my flat," Tonks continues, ushering him inside. Remus finds himself in a bright, cramped lounge. The walls are turquoise, although they're barely visible under the posters plastered across them. Dragons, Quidditch players, football teams, bands, a calendar which is turned to January even though it's now March. The wall beside the window is covered with photographs, although Remus is too far away to see them properly (probably for the best, he reckons. Seeing pictures of Tonks as a child or at school would make him feel even more troubled about how young she is).

"Is it shoes off?" Remus asks, noticing the pile of boots and trainers lumped by the door. Possibly the most shoes he has ever seen in one place.

"No, you're fine,"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah,"

"This is nice," he notes blandly to the room, then takes the wine bottle out of his pocket and offers it to her, "I brought this,"

Tonks looks surprised, although Remus puts that down to her general jumpiness this evening.

"Thank you, that's so kind, I'll go and get some glasses. Make yourself at home. There's some chocolates on the table- Wizochoc, your favourite, help yourself," she rattles off, then disappears through the door.

Remus casts a cleaning spell on his shoes in case they got any mud on them outside, and goes to sit down on the sofa, which is half-buried under mismatched cushions. He drums his fingers on his knees while he waits for Tonks to come back, considering if wearing a tie was such a good idea. Now he's here in her colourful, homely living room, he suspects that the tie looks too formal and he looks a stick-in-the-mud. Although surely Tonks knows him well enough to know that he is.

There's a clink as Tonks comes back into the living room, holding two glasses between her fingers. She taps the bottle with her wand to uncork it, then holds it out to him and says, "You do the honours,"

Remus takes the bottle and pours what he hopes is a respectable amount into both glasses (having drunk with Sirius for the last few months, he's lost track of what counts as a respectable amount). He feels less apprehensive now he's made it through the ordeal of ringing the doorbell and walking into Tonks' home, although befuddlement fretfulness are still pinballing around inside his stomach. He isn't used to feeling nervous around women. He isn't used to feeling any of this around anybody.

"Cheers," Tonks says when he puts the bottle down. She sits down beside him and clinks their glasses together.

"Cheers," Remus echoes, and takes a sip. It's good wine- always is if it's the Blacks'- and Remus takes another gulp to avoid having to come up with something to day. He's good at awkward small-talk, but now he's drawing a blank. He finds he doesn't want to look at Tonks much, which is a surprise given that in the last few weeks he's had to force his eyes away from her.

"How was work today?" he attempts weakly.

"Okay. Mad-Eye turned up to give everyone a scare," she shrugs.

"Right," Remus nods, wracking his brain for anything to add. He's spent whole nights on Order duty with Tonks, gossiping and joking, and mornings on the back porch swapping anecdotes and random bits of information. The Venn diagram between things Tonks knows about and things he knows about doesn't have much overlap, so he always learns things with her. Except now Remus can't remember any of what those things are.

"Wanna play a game?" Tonks asks.

"Alright,"

She often says that, he remembers- _let's play a game, tell me a story, come and watch this._ The childishness of it should make him uneasy, or at least irritated, but instead he finds it charming. He goes along with it without question; playing her silly games and telling her daft anecdotes and watching whatever it is she wants to show off about. He's captivated by her and he knows it, and he wishes he didn't like it so much.

Tonks stanches the bottle from the table and studies the back of the label.

"You know how wine always has really wanky stuff written on the label? You have to guess what it is," she orders.

"The ingredients, you mean?"

"Yeah, and all the adjectives and serving suggestions they put on,"

Another topic to talk about. Excellent. Remus makes a big show of taking a sip of wine and swilling it around his mouth. He pretends to consider for a while and then says, "Pear, grapefruit, lime and gooseberry flavours. Perfect for enjoying outside with friends and eaten with a fish salad,"

Tonks stares at him, then checks the label. "You cheat, you read it before," she says, giving his shoulder a shove.

Remus falls sideways, sniggering, then continues reciting, "It's Sauvignon blanc crafted from grapes grown in Chile's sunny Central Valley, where the grapes are ripened to crisp and fruity perfection. Contains 12% alcohol, best served chilled,"

"How do you even remember that?"

"I'm good at lists," he shrugs.

"You should have been an Auror, you'd pass Memorisation Training easy," Tonks tells him.

"I think the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures might have a problem with that," Remus replies.

Her face falls abruptly. "Don't say that,"

Remus cringes at himself. He didn't mean to get all doom and gloom on her. It's just that people have suggested before that he could have been an Auror. Kingsley's alluded to it a couple of times, Frank Longbottom brought it up many years ago- even Mad-Eye mentioned it once. And Remus must remind them every time that it's impossible. He wasn't trying to sound self-pitying- it's just his standard response when the suggestion's brought up.

"Sorry. I didn't mean it," he mumbles, wincing. They were messing about and being daft and he'd got complacent.

"Why are you so self-deprecating all the time?" Tonks demands.

"I'm sorry, I just..." _I don't know what's happening here and I'm disorientated by you as always. You baffle me, and it's intoxicating._

Tonks folds her arms, glares at him, and says through gritted teeth, "You're special, Remus. I wish you admitted it. I wish you knew it,"

Her words are kind (and untrue) but her tone is irritated.

Remus doesn't know how to respond, so an uneasy silence settles. He shouldn't have come. This was a senseless idea. Tonight's mystifying and uncomfortable and will probably end in humiliation. Why did Tonks invite him over, then? She's not stupid- she's wiser than he is when it comes to all this. Didn't she know that it was always going to end badly?

Remus clears his throat again.

"Tonks," he begins, glancing at her then abruptly looking away, "What's happening? What is this?"

She puts her wine glass down and suddenly kneels up, shifting closer so she's near enough to touch him.

"Whatever you want it to be," Tonks says softly, fingering the seam on his shoulder. He's momentarily shocked by her abrupt intimacy and tenderness. He can feel her breath on his face, faster than usual. She looks utterly lovely.

"I don't know," Remus murmurs, dazed that the atmosphere is changed so fast. She's close, and she's watching him intently, and all Remus' clothes feel too tight; his tie seems to suddenly be garroting him. He needs another drink. He should reach for his glass again to move away from her, but he finds he doesn't want to. He wants to stay this near to Tonks' breath and her mouth and her rapidly rising and falling chest, and the index finger that's rubbing tiny circles on his shoulder. He wants to be closer. Experimentally, Remus tilts his face up towards hers. She blinks, then she smiles, and he moves nearer. Shuts his eyes. His mouth touches hers. Remus freezes. Then his body relaxes, leans into it, feels how soft her lips are, how they taste of the wine she just sipped, how they- bloody Merlin- move fractionally against his. They're kissing, he's kissing her, and Remus opens his eyes to check that this is real and it's actually happening. It's when he does that that the reality of what's happening rams into his head. _Get off her, you pervert,_ a voice in his head hisses, _this is wrong, this is disgusting, take your mouth of hers right now._

He yanks his mouth away, so quickly that Tonks topples forwards. Remus leaps to his feet and backs away, stumbling towards to door.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, I should go,"

His heart's pounding again, out of shame and panic this time. How did he just do that? What was he thinking? He wasn't thinking at all, controlled by the urges in his body. He's spent years being better than that; controlling himself, dampening down lust and rage and wolfish savagery. How could he have forgotten? How could he let himself do that to somebody he cares about so much? Tonks is going to hate him now. She'll tell everybody how he forced his mouth on her, slobbered like an animal, because he _is_ an animal, a freak, a vile, grotesque werewolf.

"What? What do you mean? You can't leave," Tonks is saying. She's on her feet, walking towards to him. She looks beautiful in the half-light, Remus thinks, then hates himself for thinking that.

"I'm sorry," he repeats breathlessly.

"Don't be sorry," she says. Then she smiles and adds, "Do you know how long I've been waiting for that?"

She holds her hand out and slips it into his. She leans up to his ear, and her lips brush his skin as she whispers a single word in his ear: "Stay,"

She wants him to stay? She'd been- what did she say? - waiting. Waiting for him to kiss her? No, he must have misunderstood her. She couldn't want that. Nobody would ever want that.

Tonks's fingers grope for his other hand. Her face is reddened- surely from anger, not a blush? Remus wishes he knew what to do, but shock and shame and bewilderment have slowed his brain.

"Do you remember what I said that night at the Avery's. About who I'd fallen for?" Tonks asks. Her tone is coy, almost embarrassed.

Miraculously, Remus finds that his voice is still working. "I remember," he croaks.

 _You'd know perfectly well who I've fallen for, if you hadn't been too busy feeling sorry for yourself to notice._ That's what he _believed_ he heard- later, Remus assumed he must have misheard her, or she'd been so furious with him for that comment about Padfoot that her words came out wrong. Because what Tonks couldn't be implying what it sounded like she was implying.

"You want me to say it, don't you?" she half-smirks, "Or are you being dense?"

Dense, dumbfounded, disconcerted. And somewhere beneath all that unpleasant and perplexing fog, Remus is desperate for her to say it, to hear those words come out of her mouth and confirm everything, give him everything.

Tonks exhales heavily. "It's you. I have fallen for you," she says, and beams, blushing more than ever, "I've been thinking about you for ages now and it won't go away, and…I'm just crazy about you,"

Joy. Utter bliss. Remus wants to jump and cheer and hold her close, kiss her again, keep gazing at the way Tonks is smiling at him, _for_ him. And then, like a Pavlovian reaction, the horror rams into him. The knowledge that this is wrong and sick and vulgar, that he doesn't deserve this and he shouldn't wreck everything for he

Remus swallows and manages to whisper, "Tonks, you know what I am?"

Her grin vanishes, replaced by a determined seriousness. "I know,"

"A werewolf," he clarifies.

Now it's the determined seriousness' turn to vanish, replaced this time by anger and Tonks lets go of both his hands.

"Merlin's balls, can we have five minutes tonight where we don't talk about you being a werewolf?" she snaps, stepping back.

"It isn't going away,"

"If I tell you I now that I know that, and I've thought about it loads and I don't care- will you shut up about it?" Tonks pleads, and then she's back against him, gripping his hands tight as she looks up into his eyes, "Please?"

Later, Remus will curse himself for this moment. For giving in to her eyes and her promises. This, he will reflect when he's frozen and hungry and surrounded by werewolves, is the moment he should acted like an adult and told Tonks no, he can't and he shouldn't and he has no right to do this to her.

But what he does do, is laugh. Partly at her, partly at how unexpected and fabulous this all is, but mostly at himself and his utter lack of how to navigate what's happening.

"I'm sorry, I haven't done this for a while," he chuckles.

Tonks squeezes his hands tighter. _"Will_ you shut up about it now?"

Abruptly, Remus realises that she's nervous. She doesn't understand what's happening either. Tonks told him that she'd fallen for him, but he hasn't said anything back. Hasn't said _it_ back, and it's made her apprehensive.

"Yes. Yes, alright," Remus blurts, snickering again at the thought that she's brash and loud and a Black and an Auror, and yet somehow _he_ has made her nervous.

"I feel the same. Lately I've been thinking about you, and feelings thing for you, that I haven't felt for anybody for a long time. But I didn't know if you could ever, or that I should..."

He can't bring himself to look Tonks in the eye, but he sees her face lighten from worried to relieved, flattered and elated.

"I think you should. If you want to. And for the record I _could_ ever,"

She reaches up and fondles the knot of his tie, then skews it so that it's crooked over his shirt buttons. It's such a Tonks thing to do and Remus grins. It feels as if his heart is swelling inside him.

"I've never met anybody like you," he murmurs.

"In a good way or a bad way?" Tonks answers dreamily, and she moves closer so their knees are touching, and her chest is skimming his. She's tipping her face up to his again, reflecting his grin.

"A good way," he breathes, and presses his lips to hers once more.

* * *

His lips are slightly dry and he isn't moving his mouth and her nose has bashed his a couple of times. It feels absolutely incredible. He's hesitant, kissing softer when she presses harder, as if he isn't sure that he's allowed to return the pressure, as if he suspects she'll change her mind. As if.

After several long, gratifying moments, Tonks feels Remus' mouth pull away gently. She wants to stop him, to sucker her lips to his or hold her hand to the back of his head to keep him clamped against her. But he unlocks their lips and moves back and, reluctantly, Tonks opens her eyes. Remus is smiling at her, looking both pleased and perplexed. For a moment she gazes at him and how lovely his smile is. Although now it's definitely her second-favourite thing his mouth does.

"I need a drink," Remus announces.

Tonks giggles and tugs him over to the couch. She sits down and puts her hand on his knee while Remus picks up his glass and takes a sip (drinking is now demoted to third-favourite Remus' Mouth Thing). When he puts the glass down he turns to her with that same joyful-baffled look on his face, and does a _well-what-do-we-do-now_ shrug that's totally adorable.

"Come here," Tonks laughs, and pulls him into a hug. She feels Remus' arms wrap around her back. They've hugged plenty of times before, but not like this. She's never been able to run her palms across his shoulder blades and down his back or sift her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. For a while they hold each other, and she enjoys Remus' warmth, the soft curliness of his hair and the thrill of being so close to him for so long.

Eventually, Remus sighs against her and says, "Do we need to talk about this?"

He can be such a girl. Tonks rolls her eyes, but only because he's looking over her shoulder and can't see.

"I don't know, do we?" she replies.

Remus moves back so he can look her in the eye. "I thought you said you wanted to talk tonight?"

"Fine," Tonks sighs theatrically, "What do you want to talk about?"

She's trying to sound bored because he's suddenly got her worried. What if he says he doesn't want this or he knows that she shouldn't? _Please not the werewolf thing_. She'll wring his neck it's the werewolf thing.

"I don't think we should tell anybody about this," Remus says quickly.

It's werewolf-adjacent, but if she submits she can steer him off this subject. "If that's what you want," Tonks agrees.

Remus does his pleased-perplexed face again and says, "I still don't understand what any of this is,"

Maybe, Tonks guesses, flirting will puzzle him so much that it'll stop him digging further down the Werewolf Wormhole.

She pouts. "I was about to tell you that before you interrupted by kissing me,"

For a moment, Remus looks panicked. _Okay,_ she notes, _he's not ready to handle flirting yet._

"No, I'm joking, I wanted you to. I _want_ you to," Tonks correctly hurriedly. She tilts forward to give him a reassuring peck on the mouth, "See?"

"I keep doing the wrong things," Remus sighs. He downs his wine and picks up the bottle to pretend to pour himself another glass. Tonks giggles, even though she wishes he'd stop saying that.

"No, you don't," she corrects.

"Are you sure?"

"Course. I told you, I think you're so special, you're bloody fantastic,"

He's the strangest and wisest and best guy, and he's _hers._ She wasn't misunderstanding because he was feeling the same way all along. Tonks squeezes his shoulder affectionately.

"Is there anything else you want to add to this Talk?" she asks.

"Not for now,"

 _Thank Merlin for that,_ Tonks thinks.

Out loud she says, "Okay," and adds reluctantly, "We can revisit later, if you want,"

One thing she knows about him for sure is that he requires patience. And patience requires compromise, and compromise means being open to having this conversation again at some point, or point _s_ realistically. Just please none of the werewolf thing. It's only an illness. It isn't important, It doesn't mean anything and it doesn't affect how Tonks feels about him. She wasn't lying when she said she's thought it through loads, and however many times she's questioned herself about it, all she can conclude is that it doesn't matter. He isn't a werewolf, he's Remus and he's magnificent.

"Thank you," Remus mutters, but Tonks barely lets him finish the word before kissing him again, harder than before, and wet and hungry. She's been hungry for him for months. She wants Remus to take the hint and kiss back with the same fervour, although he still seems hesitant. Tonks feels his hand cup her elbow. That's a very Remus-y thing to do, she reckons, to go for the elbow instead of waist or hip or face or shoulder. He's such a quaint old-fashioned gentleman. Tonks giggles, and topples away from him, and Remus giggles back, and they're both laughing too much to kiss properly.

* * *

Later, he'll struggle to explain the rest of what had happens that evening. They talk- not seriously anymore, just interesting or trivial things- and chuckle and drink and kiss and eat the chocolates. Remus finds himself lounging on the sofa with his back against Tonks' chest, while one of her hands strokes his hair and the other fiddles with his braces and shirt buttons (thank Merlin he wore a t-shirt underneath; the thought of Tonks' fingers slipping onto his bare chest makes him feel almost dizzy). She leans down every so often to kiss his cheek and jaw, and sometimes Remus cranes his neck so her mouth can meet his. He keeps laughing- partly because she makes him laugh, partly because he feels awkward and partly because he's so giddy that this is happening. This is more than he ever dared to hope for.

Unexpectedly, there's a shriek from the bedroom. "Bedtime! Beeeedtiiiime!"

Tonks groans. "That's my clock," she explains, then yells, "Shut up!"

There's a pause for a moment, and then the high-pitched voice starts again, "It's your bedtiiiii-"

"Put a sock in it or you'll end up in the bin with the old mirror!" Tonks shouts.

"Early shift, early shift! Nymphadora needs to go to bed to be up for the early shift!" crows the clock's voice. Remus glances at his watch- Merlin's beard, it's ten o'clock. His jacket's ended up draped on one side of the couch and the bottle and the box of chocolates are empty on the coffee table.

Remus feels Tonks prod him up so she can get off the sofa. "Sorry about this," she mutters, "Hold on one sec,"

She gets to her feet, takes a couple of steps towards the door, then turns around and pecks him on the mouth. She's grinning mischievously, and Remus can feel himself looking back with a dopey smile on his face. He doesn't reckon he's stopped beaming for hours. Then the clock starts wailing again and Tonks huffs and leaves through the living room door. Remus hears her stomp into her bedroom and start growling at the clock.

He sits up properly and straightens the tie, which Tonks has been loosening and fiddling with all evening. Remus pulls his jacket on and stands up, feeling peculiar. Reborn, almost.

"Are you going? You don't have to," Tonks asks as she re-appears in the doorway. The disappointment in her voice is so obvious and so flattering that it almost hurts.

"You're on earlies," Remus points out. That's a five AM start for her, he knows- she often moans about it when she's downing coffee at Grimmauld Place of an evening.

"Yeah, but…" Tonks mumbles, then looks away as she says, "It's alright if you want to go,"

Of course Remus doesn't want to go, and he almost tells Tonks that. But he stops himself, not wanting to suggest anything improper. It's only been one evening, and he doesn't want to take advantage of her hospitality. He doesn't want to take advantage of her in any way, ever.

"I've enjoyed tonight very much," he says softly.

She steps towards him, "Same. Tonight's been special,"

Tonight's been more than he ever anticipated. More than he deserves, certainly, and so Remus doesn't dare to ask the inevitable question.

Tonks cuts in and asks it for him: "Do you want to do this again?"

Relief floods Remus, but he makes himself reply politely, "Yes. That'd be nice,"

"Tomorrow?" Tonks asks eagerly. She wants to do everything they've done tonight, again, with him, _tomorrow?_

But he can't. He's got commitments which he can't miss, because nobody can know that this is what's happened tonight. What's more, his best friend needs him.

"I'm with Sirius the next two nights," Remus explains.

"What about Thursday?"

"Thursday sounds wonderful," he nods. He dislikes hyperbole; "wonderful" is not an exaggeration. "Wonderful" is exactly what tonight has been and how the offer of doing it all again sounds.

"Same time?"

"Yes, alright,"

Tonks runs a finger down his shirt buttons. "I'll see you at Grimmauld before then, probably," she says, and she sounds dreamy again.

Remus has never been able to afford to be dreamy. He doesn't want to order her about, but he doesn't want to risk anything either. "Remember what I said about not telling anybody. Please," he insists.

"Of course not. Come on, I'll walk you out,"

Tonks slips her hand into his and leads him through the door into the building lobby.

"Thank you for having me," Remus says.

Tonks turns and leans back against the wall. "Thanks for the wine,"

"Thanks for the chocolate," he grins, closing in.

"You're welcome," Tonks mumbles, and before Remus can reply she's kissing him, wrapping her arms around him so that his elbows are pinned to his sides. Her kiss is hard but tender at the same time- he's learnt tonight how many glorious, contradictory ways of kissing she has, and how many things her kisses can show. He's tried to be respectful and chaste, but she's made that difficult. Remus loves that she's made it difficult.

Tonks moves her mouth an inch away from his and breathes, "Bye,"

Remus can't resist stamping another peck on her lips, before she lets him go and opens the door.

"Goodbye, Tonks," he says, stepping outside.

"See you soon. Oh, and Remus?"

"Mmm?"

She's standing in the doorway, gripping the side of the doorframe with a hand as her face splits into a grin.

"You don't always have to wear a tie for me, you know,"

It isn't even very funny, but he chortles about it all the way home.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading. This one has been knocking around my head for ages, although it turned out to be very difficult to write and it hasn't turned out entirely how I wanted it to. What do you reckon?**


	16. What It's Really Like

**This chapter was quite upsetting to write, so here's your warning for distressing content. But this one is also one of my favourites, so I hope you like it too.**

 _"He's sent to the floor, a pure mess of grief,"_

\- _Harry Potter and the Cursed Child: Part Two_

What It's Really Like

Half of the objects in the kitchen had exploded. Ginny was going to have to take this outside. She hooked her arms around Teddy's waist and attempted to drag him towards the back door, but he squirmed free, threw himself down on the carpet and started thrashing his little limbs.

"I hate Albus! _I hate Albus!"_ he howled, pummeling the floor. His hair had turned scarlet with wrath.

Ginny scooped him up, tossed him over her shoulder and kept a firm grip on his legs as she carried him in a fireman's lift out into the garden. Teddy's small fists hammered on her back as he tried to kick his legs free.

"Lemme go! Get _off_ me!" he screeched. He was average size for a nine-year-old but rage had made him strong; there were scratches and toothmarks up Ginny's arms from where she'd already tried to restrain him. Anger had made Teddy powerful too, and the kitchen was littered with crockery that his untrained magic had shattered. Ginny had never seen anybody so angry. It was frightening to see such a small boy possessed by such intense fury.

"Put me down!" Teddy shrieked, twisting so suddenly that Ginny dropped him onto the grass. Teddy scrambled for the back door but Ginny flicked her wand to shut and lock it. Teddy reached the door and banged his palm on the wood, kicked it, then wheeled round.

"I'll kill you! I'll kill Albus! I'm a werewolf, _I'll kill him!"_

"Teddy," said Ginny seriously, "It would break your Dad's heart to hear you call yourself that,"

"Good! This is- all- his- fault!"

Teddy punctuated each word with a kick, then hurled his whole body at the door. His head thwacked onto the wood but he didn't seem to care because he did it again. And again. And this, Ginny thought, was what the war really was. It wasn't the smell of Ron's sweaty t-shirt when he hugged her after the Ministry, it wasn't Dumbledore's solid coffin, it wasn't the sound of her blood thrumming in her ears as she pelted down corridors with the Carrows at her heels. The war hadn't been about danger or unity or her Order of Merlin. The war was her polite, artistic, introspective, talkative, cheerful godson, repeatedly smacking his head on a door.

Ginny grabbed his arm and tried to pull him away. "You'll hurt yourself,"

"I don't care!" he hissed.

" _I_ care. You can break whatever you want out here, as long as don't hurt the boys or yourself,"

"I hate you all! I hate Albus, I hate James, I hate you, I hate Harry, I hate Granny, I hate Mummy and Daddy!"

This is what it had all been about. They'd fought so that fewer children had this pain tearing at their insides. But it had been too late for Teddy. Teddy was another casualty.

"I know, I know," Ginny said soothingly, "Teddy, st-"

"No, you don't!" Teddy roared. His face was almost as red as his hair. "Harry pretends he understands but he _doesn't understand!_ They didn't want to leave him, they were killed! Harry pretends it's the same, but _it isn't the same_ and I _hate_ Albus, I hate him, I'm going to-"

But Teddy never told Ginny what he was going to do to her baby son, because he abruptly started to twitch, then retched, and then was sick down his t-shirt and onto the patio. He started trembling and Ginny thought he was going to pass out. She dashed over and caught Teddy as his knees gave way, but he didn't faint. His little body shook with grief.

"Why did they go? They didn't have to go," he squealed, curling into a ball, "They didn't have to go and they left me,"

"I know, I know. Shh, Ted, shh. Deep breaths," Ginny whispered. The two of them had ended up in a tangle of limbs and Teddy burrowed his face into her neck, smearing vomit and saliva over her while she rubbed circles onto his back, "It's alright, baby, it's okay. Deep breaths, good lad,"

"Why didn't they stay?" Teddy squeaked into her shoulder, "Harry parents stayed with him. Why didn't mine stay? Why didn't they stay?"

He asked over and over, like a prayer. All Ginny could do was tell him to take deep breaths and that he was a good boy and that she was there.

"Good lad. Shh, shh. Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?" she suggested.

"Yuh 'kay," he mumbled.

Teddy clung to Ginny like a monkey as she stood up and carried him back inside her house. Thankfully Albus was still asleep in his cot, and James had taken cover from Teddy's tantrum upstairs and hadn't reappeared. He was probably jumping on his bed or chucking all of Ginny's Quidditch figurines onto the floor, but Ginny was happy to leave her oldest son to whatever mischief he was up to if it gave her more time to calm Teddy down. She sat him down on the sofa, poured him a glass of water and _tergeo-_ d his sticky t-shirt.

"Better?"

"Albus gets a Mummy and Daddy, why don't I? Why did they go?" he whispered, gripping his glass tightly.

"You're going to be okay," Ginny promised, lifting him onto her lap, "I've got you and everything's going to be okay,"

Teddy dropped the glass and crumpled with sobs. It was taking everything Ginny had not to cry too. When James got upset she told him to think of nice things, but what nice things could cheer up a boy whose parents had been killed? Had left him to go and die? Ted was right, it was different to Harry. And even thought it had been worth it, Tonks and Professor Lupin had still left Teddy. They had made that choice.

"I'm here. I love you," Ginny murmured into his hair. The scarlet was fading into a reddy-brown. She adored this little boy; everybody did. But it wasn't enough.

After a long moment, Teddy peeled his face away from Ginny's neck. He looked up at her with his mother's eyes and asked, "If it all happened again, would you go?"

Poor kid. Her brave and beautiful boy. Ginny squeezed him tight. "Ted. Your Mummy and Daddy loved you very, very much," she told him, because she hoped that was what he was really asking.

"But would you?" he persisted.

Ginny considered. She thought of James' squeaky giggle, his wet and clumsy kisses and the way he pronounced "Th" like "F". She thought of Albus' green eyes, just like Harry's, and the feel of his warm tummy under his vest. She thought of the way Harry balled his fists up when he was excited and of Charlie's rumbly laugh and of Mum's jam roly-poly. She remembered the time George had shown her how Fainting Fancies worked ("See, Gin, it's a liquid-form stunning spell,"). Ginny thought of Tom's handwriting, Bellatrix's hysterical cackle, and the sting when Amycus Carrow had first slapped her. "Mudblood", "Blood traitor", "Half-breed", "Freak", "You're a disgrace to the name of wizard", "Magic is Might", "Call yourself a pure-blood, Weasley? Where's your pride?", "Freak", "Mongrel", "Mudblood. _Mudblood!"._ She remembered pulling Harry away from Dumbledore's corpse, and Colin's bony body in Oliver Wood's arms. Fred. She thought of Harry's nightmares and how tears sometimes dribble down Mum's face when she doesn't want anybody to see. She remembered Professor Lupin inviting her to his office at the start of second-year for a hot chocolate, and Tonks hurdling up the stairs at Grimmauld Place calling, "Ginny, I've finally cracked the monkey nose!". And then she remembered them lying dead on the floor. Ginny thought of Sunday morning cuddles with Harry and Albus and James.

She gripped Teddy's shoulder in case her answer made him explode again, and said quietly, "I don't know,"

Teddy didn't explode. He nodded carefully and took another sip of his water. "Ginny?"

"Mmm?"

"Can I shut my eyes and pretend you're my Mummy?"

It was almost as difficult for Ginny not to gape at him as it had been for her not to cry.

"Just for a little bit?" Teddy added, "Just pretend? I _know_ it's pretend. Please? Please?"

He was begging her. Her precious godson, whose parents had left him forever and he couldn't understand why. She owed it to him, and to Harry, and to Tonks, who was younger when she died than Ginny is now and who never got to watch Teddy grow up.

"Alright. Okay, baby, just for a while,"

Teddy smiled, wriggled down so that he was slumped against Ginny's chest, and closed his eyes. Ginny stroked his hair (brown now) and it wasn't long before Teddy fell asleep, exhausted by all the shouting and violence and the emotions too big for his body and brain.

"So many people love you," Ginny whispered, "You are so loved and so special, and…" and having this tiny baby around during the first months after the war made given them all a purpose and a distraction. Harry, who wasn't used to not having anything to fight for, channeled his excess energy into his godson. Even George had wanted to see the baby, and Ginny had overheard Andromeda telling Mum that Teddy had given her something to live for when she'd lost everything else

"…and I'm so sorry about your parents. I'm sorry they left you and they died. I wish they could be here, Teddy, I'm so sorry…".

She wiped her tears with her sleeve and wrapped her arms around Teddy's back and held him safe, like his mother should have been able to.

* * *

 **Thank you for your time. I'm very grateful to everybody who has reviewed so far and any feedback on this chapter would be great.** **If you want to see more of Teddy Lupin in happier times (because we know that this kid turns out alright), please take a look at my new story, _Boy._ Thanks. **


	17. Impressions: 22nd August 1995

Impressions: 22nd August 1995

Her name is Nymphadora Tonks but woe betide anybody who calls her by her first name. Well, anybody apart from Sirius, her long-lost cousin who she lets get away with murder (ironic, that). Her mother, the infamous Andromeda who ran away with a Muggle-born, was Sirius' teenage hero and he's awed that Andromeda's daughter is now grown-up and an Auror and a member of the Order of the Phoenix.

She's a Metamorphmagus and doesn't shut up about it. The first thing she did upon entering Grimmauld Place for the first time was to check everybody was looking before asking if turquoise was her colour, and when they all seemed perplexed she announced, "Nah, I don't think so," and morphed her hair to pink. It was obvious from her face that the impressed reaction was something she was used to and enjoyed. The twins bombard her with questions like, "Can you turn yourself into a boy?" and "So what's your _real_ face?" and her answers are cheerful, detailed and proud.

She's an Auror too, and will tell anybody who's listening how she qualified last year after getting full marks on Concealment & Disguise but nearly failing Stealth & Tacking. Remus doesn't blame her for showing off about her job- it _is_ impressive, especially as nobody was taken on to training straight from school for two years before she was, and as far as he knows nobody has since. She trained under Mad-Eye Moody and is his special favourite, so she can say things to him that nobody else would dare and receive only a glare from his remaining eye as reprimand. Sometimes Moody even chokes out a gruff laugh. She does, Remus has noticed, make people laugh a lot. She likes silly jokes and sarcasm and if all else fails she makes her nose look like Severus'.

The Auror and the Metamorphing go together, because at a moment's notice she can turn into an old lady or a teenage girl or the Indian woman who sings at the Leaky Cauldron. Instant disguises, no Polyjuice or human transfiguration necessary. Mad-Eye assures Remus that she is an excellent Auror and will be an excellent asset to the Order. Remus doesn't remember hearing Moody talk about anybody else like that. Mad-Eye's right though, because already she's snuck into various places she shouldn't have been and returned gleefully laden with information. Furthermore, she and Kingsley are the Order's spies at the Auror office, keeping an eye on Fudge and Scrimgeour and diverting the search for Sirius.

He reckons that she's a punk, or a goth, or whatever they're calling themselves these days. Her jackets and jeans have artistic tears in, her multicoloured t-shirts are either extremely tight or hugely oversized. They have slogans garishly printed on them blaring _Gluten Tag_ and _Is there a Healer in the house?_ although Remus tries not to read all of them because he doesn't want to look like he's starring at her chest. Her dangerously short skirts are made of some sort of tutu material so that they fan out. She has piercings at the top of her ear and a tattoo of the letter A on her right hand, although sometimes the tattoo's hidden by those fingerless gloves she has. The boots that she wears go up to her knee. Remus isn't sure how old she is but she's friendly with the older Weasley boys, the two who'd left school by the time he'd started teaching there. She's always asking Mrs Weasley what Charlie is up to in Romania. He reckons that puts her about twenty-two, and Remus remembers that by the time he was twenty-two, two of his best friends were dead because the third had betrayed the first, and that he, Remus, was alone.

Nymphadora Tonks is not alone; she's always on about going to drinks or concerts with friends from school or colleagues from the Ministry. Her definition of "concert", he supposes, judging by her band t-shirts and the music she blares out of the kitchen radio, is probably different to his. She's seeing somebody, something Remus only knows because Sirius pointed out the love-bites on her neck a couple of weeks ago (she is not, then, the sort of woman who covers up love-bites). It's probably a tall, slim, bright Ministry boy with battered Converse like she wears, or maybe a big muscled lad who works in Quidditch promotion. Remus wouldn't know.

She seems to have appointed herself as Ginny Weasley's older sister, which is kind because goodness knows Ginny needs one with all those big brothers. She can often be found chatting with Ginny or morphing noses for her. She's also told her to check for shield charms on the doors so they can use the twins' Extendable Ears to eavesdrop. Remus should probably have a word with her about that but he suspects she'd laugh it off, shrug and say he was being a stick in the mud. That's what Sirius said when Remus brought it up with him, and he's very similar to his little cousin.

She trips over the doormat every time she enters Grimmauld Place. She spills her tea and drops her mug. She scrapes her plate with her fork and talks with her mouth full. Her elbows are frequently grazed and the scabs on her knees are visible through her ripped jeans. She is _constantly_ knocking things over.

She is, to be honest, a bit annoying. She interrupts and asks too many questions and she does not. Stop. Talking. Remus wishes she would shut up for five minutes. It's like being with Sirius except she's less bitter and more prone to giggling. When she isn't asking questions she's probably talking about herself. This makes Remus roll his eyes but, he supposes, she _does_ has a lot to say about herself; a lot of things in her life. He isn't sure if all of her wild anecdotes are true but he chuckles politely anyway. Sometimes when he's in the hall he can hear her tittering upstairs with Ginny and Hermione. Hearing Hermione Granger titter is unusual, he notes. Sirius frequently commandeers his little cousin to gossip and tease and flirt with, and that annoys Remus too. He should probably cut Sirius more slack, cooped up in here all day like a madwoman in the attic (no, that's his mother).

She says hello to Remus and asks him how he is and what he's been up to. She wants to know what book he's reading. She needles him for embarrassing anecdotes about Sirius at school, and sometimes Remus indulges her. He can feel her eyeing him in the days around the full moon, wanting to fire questions. Everybody does. For once however, she seems to know to keep her mouth shut, and for this he is grateful. She usually offers to help Molly with the washing-up and to run errands for Kingsley (a more cynical man would suggest that she is itching for a promotion. But Remus doesn't think she's like that, or if she is she's very good at disguising hankering for helpfulness. But disguise is her thing, isn't it, so what does he know?). She mucks in with the cleaning projects Molly sets the kids. She always takes a sweet if offered one.

Remus notices these things about her because he notices things about everybody. He's always had a good eye for detail. And apart from her casual enquiries about his books and her inquisitive looks at him in the days before and after the full moon, he doubts that Nymphadora Tonks has noticed him at all.


	18. 17

**Set during Harry's birthday tea,** ** _Deathly Hallows_** **Chapter Six.**

Seventeen

As the Patronus faded, Remus jumped to his feet.

"We shouldn't be here" he announced. He stammered an apology to Harry, grabbed Tonks' hand and yanked her away from the dinner table. She barely had time to swallow her mouthful of cake before they were out of the door.

"Remus, wait-" she protested, knocking into the doorframe.

"We need to leave,"

"But it's Harry's birthday. We can't run off without saying goodbye," Tonks told him indignantly. She tried to wriggle out of Remus' grip, but he kept his fingers clamped firmly around her wrist. He dragged her out across the yard and onto the grass.

"We can't run into the Minister. Harry won't mind,"

"Yes, he will. Give me two seconds to run back inside to give him a hug goodbye,"

"No,"

"Remus, I-" she began, but her husband interrupted.

"For once will you not argue with me!"

He hardly ever snapped at her like that. He was still reeling, Tonks knew, from the news about the baby. She knew he'd be shocked and stressed about her getting pregnant, but she hadn't anticipated Remus descending into apologies and despair and insisting that the child will be a werewolf. Tonks had asked if there was any history of that happening, and Remus hadn't given her a concrete answer. She's sure, then, that he doesn't actually know that werewolves pass their condition onto their children. It's Remus' paranoia and self-hate talking. They'd gone round in circles talking about it last night, and the conversation's far from finished. Tonks is still getting her head around it all herself. She thought that an evening at the Burrow, celebrating Harry's birthday before the wedding tomorrow, would be a pleasant distraction for them. She'd hoped that Remus would be easier to talk to about the pregnancy if he'd had an enjoyable dinner the Weasleys'. Except Arthur's patronus had said that he was bringing Scrimgeour with him, and now Remus was even more spooked. In the last few weeks, the Ministry had become even more suspicious of werewolves than normal. Given that Albus Dumbledore had just been murdered, abruptly ordering a review of the Werewolf Register seemed ludicrous, Scrimgeour was suspicious of everybody, and Greyback was known to have been at the scene of Dumbledore's death. The arrival of the Minister of Magic would therefore not help Remus' mood.

"We can't risk it. Besides, we'll see them all tomorrow," Tonks' husband continued in a more placating tone. He shoved his foot into a gap in the fence and used it as leverage to clamber over.

"But Harry's birthday's _today,"_

"We're leaving _now,"_ Remus intoned, "Climb over fence and we'll apparate home,"

It was the first time, Tonks noted, that he'd called her flat "home". But that wouldn't sway her. If they were going to have a baby, they'd be out and about in the world with their kid.

She folded her arms. "No,"

She hadn't told anybody about her marriage outside of family and the Order. Tonks wore her wedding ring on a necklace at work and didn't mention Remus to anyone at the Ministry. She'd been too busy to see her friends in the last few weeks, so at least she'd been spared that stress. The point was, though, she wasn't going to march up to Scrimgeour and declare that Remus was her husband. But on the chance that the Minister was here on behalf of the Department For The Regulation & Control of Magical Creatures, Tonks could protect Remus. Like she always would, and like she'd defend the child as well.

"Dora. Climb. Over. This. Fence," Remus ordered through gritted teeth.

"It's his seventeenth,"

Remus' jaw stiffened. If it had been any other man Tonks would have readied herself for the explosion, but her husband was calm and collected. It was intensely infuriating.

His tone was coolly factual as he told her: "I warned you countless times that this is what life with a werewolf is like. You said you could handle it. You were prepared. You said you understood,"

Tonks held his gaze for a long moment. He was right, as usual. The worst thing about Remus was that he was always right. She'd always known the dangers he posed, physically and politically, and the danger she'd put herself into by marrying him, and Remus had told her over and over for months. Every time, Tonks had retorted that she didn't care. He'd predicted that they'd have to avoid certain situations, that being marrying him would get in the way of her work and her friendships, and that there would be many interrupted and awkward encounters. Tonks had promised that she knew what she was getting into, and that it was all worth it because she got him in the bargain.

And now there was one of those awkward interruptions which meant they had to avoid a nice event. Time to put her money where he mouth was.

"You are worth it," said Tonks, and she jumped over the fence.


	19. Yes

Yes

In Tonks' experience, funeral wakes were jolly affairs. After the solemnity of the service everybody got a few drinks down them and breathed a sigh of relief and caught up in a way they couldn't before the body was in the ground. Dumbledore's funeral was not like that. The wake was almost sadder than the service because of the awful quiet and stiffness. And the fear thick in the air. Nobody was drinking as much as they usually would, concerned that alcohol would lead to hysteria or a drunken, panic-filled argument. Mad-Eye's magical eye was spinning, on the look-out for possible brawls or worse, unwanted gatecrashers. Moody wasn't much good at sentiment or ceremony, so Tonks knew that his watch was to give himself a purpose rather than out of necessity. He was sitting near her, and it was nice to have him close, as it was Hestia and Kingsley on her other side, but the conversation was forced and dispirited. Tonks tried to stop her eyes flicking over to Remus, who was chatting to Hogwarts Express trolley witch. They were both facing away from Tonks but she could imagine him charming her in that old-fashioned way he had; pulling her chair out for her to sit down, calling her "Miss" not by her first name (come to think of it, what _was_ the trolley witch's name?) and asking her after her family. Tonks smirked, remembering how she and Sirius had used to tease him about his ooh-what-a-nice-boy manners- but the smirk faded quickly when she remembered that Sirius hasn't been here for over a year, and Dumbledore was gone too, and that it was Snape, whom Sirius had never trusted, who had killed him. Everybody had dismissed Sirius' doubts about Snape as leftover teenage rivalry, retaliation to Snape's sourness towards him, and frustration at being stuck in the house. If they had listened to him would Sirius and Dumbledore both still be alive?

The Three Broomsticks suddenly felt cramped and unpleasant. Tonks stood up abruptly, murmured something to Kingsley about needing some air, and elbowed her way through the crowd of people to head outside. At the doorway she passed Mundungus, who naturally was showing somebody the gleaming contents of his pockets. Tonks had always found his ridiculous anecdotes and incorrigibility a laugh, but he was always wary of her. She assumed this was due to her closeness to Moody, with whom Dung had never seen eye-to-eye. He jammed his hands in his pockets and looked around distractedly as she passed.

"Nothin' to see here," he muttered.

"Yeah right," Tonks scoffed, then had an idea, "Have you got a fag, Dung?"

He looked curiously at her. "Didn't know you smoked,"

Tonks shrugged.

"I'll borrow yer one if yeh keep quiet about this to your boss," he said, grinning deviously.

"Everybody knows what you're up too, Dung, and nobody cares because it's a flipping funeral," she told him, "Just give me a cigarette,"

Mundungus looked offended, but fumbled in his pocket and a moment later held out a single and very grubby hand-rolled cigarette. Tonks took it.

"Ta," she muttered, and stepped out into the darkness. There was a wall round the back of the pub and Tonks walked over to sit on it, remembering fourth year when Atticus Ali had been caught spraying graffiti there, and sixth year when Mickey and his boyfriend Stuart had been caught doing something much worse (according to Professor Sprout, anyway. The general consensus amongst the rest of Tonks' year was that Mickey and Stuart were pretty badass but that they should have remembered to cast a silencing charm). Tonks sat down on the cold wall, tapped the end of the fag with her wand to light it, and took a drag. She coughed, not having smoked a cigarette for months. She'd done it at Hogwarts, leaning out of her dorm window with the other girls, none of them liking the taste but enjoying feeling rebellious and grown-up. She'd given it up for Auror training though, reserving cigarettes for treats only; birthdays, New Year's Eve, mates' housewarmings. Albus Dumbledore's funeral.

How could he be _dead,_ she grimaced, twiddling the fag between her fingers. Dumbledore, proponent of trust, murdered at the hands of a man he had repeatedly insisted had earned his faith. What the hell was anybody supposed to do now? Everything was unknowns and uncertainties, even more so than two years ago when You-Know-Who returned and last year when it was made public knowledge. Dumbledore had been a constant, like clouds or houses- something that was always there. Tonks brushed a tear from her eye before it fell, and pushed her hair behind her ear. It had grown again and faded from pink back to mousy brown on the walk back from the funeral service. This wasn't a surprise- it had taken extensive effort to turn it pink that morning. The brown had been a permanent fixture for almost a year but damn it if she wasn't going to wear pink hair to Albus Dumbledore's funeral. After an hour of gripping the sink, concentrating hard and trying to ignore the mirror's unhelpful attempts at encouragement, Tonks' reflection had looked back at her with bright pink hair. She'd forgotten how good it looked and felt, and then she'd thought about how much everything had changed since she'd last seen herself with that hair, and how much everything would keep changing now that Dumbledore was gone. How much worse everything had gotten and was going to get. The pink-haired girl in the mirror was from a different life. But it had been nice to look like that girl for a couple of hours even if she didn't feel it, so despite the inevitability of the brown hair's return, Tonks still felt betrayed by it. She nearly laughed scornfully at herself then- feeling betrayed by her hair when Snape's' betrayal of Dumbledore had led to murder. And poor Harry, having to watch it on top of everything else he's gone through. The Order were too late _again-_ they're weak and sluggish. They killed one unimportant Death Eater that night and the Death Eaters killed Albus Dumbledore. The Death Eaters must have laughed themselves sick at Dumbledore's pathetic little guerrilla mob who'd achieved nothing in two years. Tonks thought she was joining the Order to fight, but did it count as fighting if all they did was lose? She scrubbed her tears on her jumper sleeve. They hadn't even decided on a new leader. It was probably going to be Mad-Eye or Kingsley, who she loved and who were experienced duellists and tacticians, but they didn't have Dumbledore's resources, experience, contacts or extensive knowledge of, well, everything. The Order didn't stand a chance against the Death Eaters.

 _Stop your whingeing,_ barked Tonks' inner Mad-Eye, _don't get ahead of yourself. What do I always tell you- all you have to focus on is staying alive for the next five minutes._ Thinking of Mad-Eye's growled philosophies usually made her chuckle, but not tonight. Tonks wondered what Dumbledore thought of in his last five minutes. Was he scared? She didn't think she'd ever seen him afraid. What about his last five seconds? Snape's gloating face was probably he last thing he ever saw. That was one of the worst parts; after all the incredible, bonkers, brave things Albus Dumbledore had done, he'd ended his life wandless and helpless, murdered by his colleague and supposed friend.

There was a crunch of leaf. Tonks' eyes snapped open and she held up her wand- Auror training stuck with you even in times of despair. Constant vigilance, after all. Someone was walking around the side of the pub towards her.

"Lumos," she whispered, and the tip of her wand glowed white. Tonks held it up to see the figure's face. It was Remus. He lit his own wand and took a couple of steps forward. Her heart started hammering loudly. Stupid thing. She'd been thinking about Dumbledore and Snape and how the Order were doomed, but this impossible man still had that effect on her even a year after he'd split up with her. As Remus came closer she saw that he had an odd expression on his face; bamboozled, half-smiling. Tonks dropped the cigarette.

"Yes. Yes, alright," he said.

Tonks wasn't sure she'd heard right. "Come again?"

"Yes," he repeated, louder. He took a deep breath and said, "I will marry you,"

She stared at him. "What?"

"I lost all my best friends on one night, I got one back only to lose him again, I lost my mother, I've lost Dumbledore, and I wasted time with all of them because…well, I don't know. And I don't know if I'm going to lose you too but if I am I don't want to waste time anymore. I thought you'd be better off without me but you weren't, and I was worse without you, and Sirius and Mam and Dumbledore and everyone would want us to be happy, and what else are we fighting for? So yes. I want to marry you,"

"You're drunk," Tonks realised. It was almost a relief; he was drunk and melancholy so there was no need to get her hopes up. He was waxing poetical nonsense and wouldn't remember in the morning.

"No, I'm not. I love you and I want to marry you, so if the offer's still there I accept. And if the offer's not there-" in a swift movement he was sitting beside her and had taken her hand. He met her eyes and Tonks knew straight away that he wasn't drunk. She knew what he was like pissed, and he didn't give those kind of steely looks. Moreover, even if he was totally trollied he wouldn't mess with her like this. Which meant that it was for real. Tonks gaped. What. The. Hell. Of everything she'd expected to happen tonight, this was not it. Remus looked back and his expression was controlled but fierce. He opened with mouth but before he could get the words out Tonks blurted, "Don't say it,"

Later she wouldn't be able to explain why she hadn't wanted to hear him ask. Perhaps it was because this was all happening so fast and unexpectedly. They'd barely seen each other since the night Dumbledore died, both busy with separate Order and Ministry work, and Tonks had been mortified to speak to him after what happened in the hospital wing; she'd known he'd been stuffily furious at her. On the walk up to the funeral she'd taken his hand but insisted that it meant nothing and was just for today. Remus hadn't said anything back. And now here he was at the wake, agreeing to the offer she'd made weeks ago in the heat of anger and pain, and had repeated tearfully a few times since to assure him that it hadn't been a moment of madness.

Remus' mouth snapped shut.

Tonks had no idea what was going to happen next, and blurted, "Are you trying to hijack this? I'm the one who proposed first,"

Remus looked back questioningly and she kicked herself for making a joke. Why did she always do that? Tonks shut her eyes, cringing. "Sorry. Sorry, I didn't expect this,"

He didn't say anything. He was still holding her hand. His fingers were bony and Tonks remembered watching him play piano at Grimmauld Place, thinking how elegant his hands were.

"Yes, the offer's still there," she said. She opened her eyes as Remus' face cracked into a beam. She hadn't seen that for a while. It was very nice. She felt herself smile back.

"Well," he said steadily, "I accept,"

"Oh," Tonks mumbled, "Right. Thanks,"

"Yes, then?" he prompted.

"Yeah. Of course,"

He dived forward and kissed her. His mouth was and warm and insistent, the kiss wet and hard and she returned it hungrily. Oh God, she'd forgotten what his kisses tasted like. How _right_ they felt. This incredible man who was so careful with his love, but for some reason had given it to her. He was going to be hers forever. She was going to love him and protect him always. They weren't going to be apart ever again.

"Are you alright?" As sudden as his mouth had pressed to hers, he'd pulled away again and was looking at her worriedly. Tonks realised that she was crying again, tears dribbling down her face.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I…I wasn't expecting this," she managed to reply.

"Neither was I," Remus admitted. He was beaming again. It was beautiful.

"God, I've missed you,"

"I know. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Dora," he said, gripping her shoulders to stare into her face, "Let's not waste any more time. Let's get married soon,"

"As soon as we can," she agreed.

"I'm so in love with you," he breathed, making her stomach lurch, "I'm sorry for going away. I'm sorry, I was scared and-"

She cut him off, standing up and pulling him with her as she told him, "I love you too. So much,"

She leaned up to kiss him, hurling her arms around his neck as she felt his wrap around her waist, holding each other tight. Tonks was sure that she was never going to let go of him ever again. Her fingers were gripping the back of his jacket and his lips were soft and welcoming and they were getting _married._ His tongue found hers and pushed against it, swirling inside her mouth. He'd said yes, he'd said yes, he wanted this with her and was finally letting himself he happy. He was going to be her husband. She was going to be a _wife._ His wife. Always his.

There was a sudden howl from inside the pub. The now familiar sound of Hagrid's sobs. Remus leaned away again. Oh right, Tonks remembered, they were at a funeral. Dumbledore's funeral. Five minutes ago Tonks had been in despair but now…now everything had changed. But they still shouldn't be out here snogging while inside everybody was sombre and scared. Remus' face had greyed again and he was glancing around twitchily.

She took his hand. "Shall we go back to my room and talk?".

His eyes flicked to hers and she knew that he understood what she wasn't saying; _shall we go back to my room and talk because this is the night of Albus Dumbledore's funeral and we shouldn't be thinking about tearing each other's clothes off, however much we want to._ They were a "we" now.

"That sounds perfect," he said softly.

Tonks reached up to run her fingers across his cheek and stroke his hair. "We should probably tell someone that we're leaving," she mumbled.

"Mundungus was loitering by the door,"

"Yeah, he said he'd give me a cigarette if I didn't tell Mad-Eye he was dealing counterfeits,"

"Oh, that's why you're smoking. I did wonder," he mused, smiling slightly. They hadn't spoken like this for nearly a year; most of their interactions since he came back from Greyback's camp were awkward or arguments.

"Do I reek of fags?"

"A bit," he shrugged, grinning, "But I don't care,"

The words she'd been repeating to him all these months. Promising that she didn't care about how old he was or how it wasn't the right time or how he couldn't afford it or about what he turns into every month or how people see him because of it. And now he'd realised that he didn't care about any of that either.

They smiled at each other. Then Tonks withdrew her hand from his hair and led him back round the pub. She ducked inside for a moment and tapped Dung on the shoulder. He wheeled round and looked alarmed to see her.

"Wotcher, Dung. Oh, don't look like that, I'm not bringing Mad-Eye. Can you tell everyone I've gone home? And Remus is leaving too,"

"'lright," Dung agreed.

"Thanks. Night, Mundungus,"

Tonks headed back out into the darkness. Remus was waiting, fists shoved in pockets, although he took them out when he saw her and held his hand out. He looked so happy and Tonks felt proudly that that was down to her, to them. She took his hand and together they walked back through Hogsmeade to the rented house that Tonks and the Aurors had been staying in for the last few months. She kept steeling glances at him to find him beaming back.

"You make me laugh," he said, in a vague explanation.

"Good. I like it when you laugh,"

She looked at their joined hands, his fingers next to hers. This was all crazy in the best possible way.

Savage had stayed at the Auror house for the evening instead of going to the wake, and Tonks could hear her listening to the radio in the living room. Tonks mumbled a hello and, before Savage could come into the corridor, told her that she was too tired to chat. Then she ushered Remus upstairs to her bedroom and kicked open the door.

"Immaculate, as usual," he noted, smirking as he observed the files and paper scattered over the desk and the clothes left on the floor.

She kissed him. "Shut up,"

He chuckled and hugged her. He was good at that, she remembered. His arms were secure and comfortable and home. He would always be her home.

"We're getting married," she giggled into his chest, "My husband,"

"My wife," Remus replied. He sounded so proud.

"Your old Dutch,"

"Ball and chain,"

"'Er indoors,"

They kissed again, and drifted to the bed to lie down, still talking and joking with each other. After everything that had happened he was still so easy to talk to. Fascinating and funny and fantastic, and words were interspersed with laughter and kisses and gazing at each other excitedly. Eventually Remus suggested they go to sleep (he'd expected to be going back to his cottage tonight so he didn't have pyjamas, so climbed into bed with her in his t-shirt and boxers. Tonks, remembering the not-having-sex-the-night-of-Dumbledore's-funeral thing, tried not to look) and he curled up against her in bed. He wrapped his arms round her waist and Tonks held him tight around his shoulders, stroking his hair and his back while they murmured to each other in the dark. She fell asleep in his arms, and when she woke in the morning her hair was pink.

* * *

 **...now you've finished reading it I can tell you that recommended reading for this chapter is Love Story by Taylor Swift. You know the bit I mean. Thanks very much for reading, and please remember to review.**


	20. Unoffically

Unofficially

Tonks has three lives. One: Auror life- pride at finally making it to the job she's always wanted, long hours filing paperwork, grueling field work, Mad-Eye's words echoing in her head at all times, trying not to become angry when Dawlish underestimates her because she's the newest. Two: Life with her friends- drinks at the Leaky, Weird Sisters concerts with Levi, trying to persuade Mickey to stick with a job for more than three months, gossiping about what everybody from school is doing, bickering about music and Quidditch. Three: Order life. Grimmauld Place, the Weasleys, the Weapon, Dumbledore, Sirius, Harry, sneaking information from the Ministry, evening planning round the Grimmauld kitchen table. Some people crop up in more than one life; Kingsley is Work and Order and so is Mad-Eye to an extent, Charlie is Order and Friends. But Charlie's back in Romania now, and although the first few weeks it of living these different lives was thrilling, the more time goes on the more complicated and exhausting it gets. The Ministry's coming down harder on Harry and Dumbledore, and the subject is becoming harder to avoid in the press and in the pub. The Order want more information leaked from the Auror office and with Kingsley keeping an eye on Fudge it's fallen to Tonks to be the Order's Auror mole. All she worked for was to become a Ministry Auror, but it's difficult to have loyalty when the Ministry is so misguided. It's becoming harder to deflect topic of You-Know-Who with her friends. She has to filter everything she says, which is knackering because thinking her words through has never been Tonks' strong point. And then, to make everything even more complicated, she had to fall in love.

Introducing a new boyfriend to your mates should be nice, shouldn't it? Tonks has done that before and it's been exciting, a bit nerve-wracking and there's always been a fun de-brief on both sides afterwards. But it's different with Remus. For a start there's that bloody age gap. Tonks is sure that _she'd_ raise her eyebrows if Levi or Aisling announced they were dating someone thirteen years older. If she's totally honest she'd think it was seedy and that they were being taken advantage of by an older bloke who was only after one thing. Her mate Mickey will go the opposite way; he'll grin wickedly and hiss, "So you've found a sugar daddy? Nice one, Tonks". But Remus is the last man she'd ever imagine doing anything sleazy, and the last man she'd be sleeping with if she was after his money. If her friends met him they'd understand that. They'd see how sweet and wise he is, and he can be quite charming sometimes; she's sure they'd like him. He'd be interested in Aisling's job at the printer's and Levi would like chatting to him about those weird creatures they both like. And Remus likes _her_ doesn't he, so surely he'll like her friends. Probably?

"Your turn," he says.

"What? Oh, sorry,"

They're sprawled on Remus' ugly living room carpet playing Exploding Snap.

Tonks slaps down the seven of spades, takes a breath and asks, "Hypothetically, would you like to meet my friends?"

Remus keeps his focus on his cards and cocks his head to consider. After a moment he plays the ace of clubs and answers, "Yes. Hypothetically," but when he meets her eyes his smile wilts into a grimace, "Realistically I don't think it's particularly viable,"

She'd expected this, but it's still disappointing. She isn't going to let him wriggle out of it. "Why?"

"You know why," Remus says patiently.

Tonks groans and drops the knave of hearts into the pile. "How long are we going to keep this cloak-and dagger malarkey up? Because if you want to talk about unrealistic, keeping this a quiet for much longer I think might count,"

Remus doesn't even like to admit that they're dating to the rest of the Order. Sirius knew from the start; they agreed to tell Molly to stop her interfering, and Hestia's worked it out too. But as yet nobody else knows and that's the way Remus likes it.

"I've told you before; if everybody knows about this it wouldn't do you, your career, your family or anybody any favours," he explains.

"It's starting to feel like you're my dirty little secret. And it's not like that, is it?"

There's nothing dirty about any of it, and not just because he wants to wait before having sex. They met in the kitchen of Sirius' townhouse for goodness sake, not in a squalid cellar or through one of Mundungus' dodgy schemes. They were friends for ages first; most of what they do now is talking or reading or playing Snap. It's almost amusingly wholesome.

Tonks looks into his face, waiting for the answer.

"I didn't say _secret._ Just discreet," he says.

She resists the temptation to point out that those words are so similar that they practically sound the same. Instead, she huffs and grumbles, "I wish we could be like normal people,"

Remus stiffens and his eyes flick away. Tonks realises what she's said. "I didn't...I didn't mean _you_ , that's not what I meant,"

"I wish I was normal too," he sighs..

Dammit, why does she have to always put her foot in her mouth? She forgets about the werewolf thing, which she likes to think of as good because it shows that it isn't important to her, but forgetting means that she sometimes says stupid stuff like this.

"For your information I don't have the slightest interest in normal blokes," Tonks declares in an attempt to cheer him up.

Remus looks back at her. "No, I expect you don't,"

"So lucky you, eh?"

A heart-melting smile flickers across his face. "Lucky me,"

It's such a cliché line but he isn't one for lines; he only says things like that if he means it.

"Do you think we could try going out on a date again?" she suggests, "I'll morph,"

They've been "going out" in the seeing-each-other-romantically sense for three and a half weeks and have actually "gone out" in the being-out-of-the-house-together sense once. He worries about her being seen with him, especially since that article came out in the Prophet. Sometimes Tonks wants to snap at him that if they're going to stay indoors all the time she may as well be dating Sirius. Mostly they end up at her flat or his cottage- the latter more often, she suspects because Remus feels bad about his insistence on furtiveness so he figures the least he can do is invite her into his house. She likes being here; his space, his smell, his stuff. The first time she visited he shrugged, "It's not much," but she gets the impression that he's not especially embarrassed about how cramped and tumbledown his house is. And a great deal of their time together is spent at Grimmauld, where oddly he's more physical and less insistent on secrecy.

He smiles again, this time more apologetically, "We'll see,"

"We'll go somewhere Muggle if you want,"

"I'll think about it,"

"That sounds like a strong maybe to me," Tonks smirks. Money's going to be an issue too- no way is she letting him spend anything on her, but she's not sure how well that'll go down. Perhaps they should go for a walk or a coffee instead of dinner.

"I'm sorry this is all so complicated," Remus says heavily, "And I know that everything that's going on looks easy for me because I don't have a job or much of a life outside the Order. I know it's much more complicated for you, and I know I don't help that,"

She'd be lying if she said he was wrong. His self-imposed secrecy is a pain, as is his hesitancy. He'd been awkward and bewildered when she blunderingly told him she liked him, and the first time she invited him round to talk it over he'd been so nervous. He's twitchy about everything physical; she doubts that sex will be on the cards for another few weeks, maybe months. Blushing, he'd promised that it wasn't because of how he felt about her but because he thought it was better to take things slowly. He often asks her, "Are you _sure_ about this? Us?", so much so that last time she snapped at him to shut up. This whole relationship is nothing if not incommodious.

She sighs. "Thanks for saying that. S'alright, it isn't your fault,"

"It is a bit," he concedes with a bit of a grin.

"Just a bit. You know Remus, this is sounding suspiciously like fishing for compliments,"

She's joking- he's awful at taking compliments. Whenever she tells him he's cute or funny or special he mumbles incoherently or says, "So are you". She wants to tell him that that isn't the point. More than anything, she wants him to believe her.

"Well, after you said you like me because I'm not normal, who could blame me for wondering what other delightful flattery you have up your sleeve," he answers lightly.

Tonks chucks a cushion at him. "Your card,"

He plays the nine of spades. She plays the ten of hearts. Him- six of diamonds. Her- five of diamonds.

"Oh alright, we'll go on a proper date soon," he says suddenly, dropping the ace of hearts onto the pile.

Tonks' head snaps up. "Seriously?"

"Why not? A quick drink or something,"

"This a sudden change of heart," she notes, suspicious.

Remus shrugs.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course, I'd love to," she says, trying not to sound overly excited. She doesn't pay attention to the card she's playing until Remus whacks his wand on it and the pile explodes.

"Snap!" he yells triumphantly.

"Oh my God, you did that on purpose!"

He bats his eyes innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about,"

Sometimes he's so difficult to work out. One minute he'll be all serious and resigned, the next he'll be messing with her to cheat at cards.

"You distracted me! Oh, we are _so_ going on a date now,"

"Of course we are. You didn't think I was lying about that, did you?"

"If you're going to cheat at cards I'm going to choose where we're going,"

"That wasn't cheating. Have you ever played with Molly, she's the real cheat. And if you're choosing does that mean we'll end up at some Godawful music concert in a sewer?"

"What kind of gigs do you go to if they're in a _sewer_?"

She knows that he hasn't actually been to a concert in years because he can't afford it. She also knows that no way is she going to take him to a Weird Sisters or Howling Banshees gig. She wants him to meet her friends but if they all went to a concert he'd be moaning about the noise, smells and darkness and her friends would think he was a right old man. One day she'll take him to the Barbican or the Stoller Hall to watch an orchestra or a jazz band. He'd like that.

"I meant your concerts; the _sweat_ in those places," Remus shudders.

"You seem to know a lot about it. Something you're not telling me?"

"I've read a book or two on the subject,"

"What if we go on a date to a library? Get the romance going by not speaking to each other," Tonks suggests.

"Not talking? You'd barely last five minutes,"

"Hmph, you've clearly never done Stealth & Tracking training with Moody. Eight hours doing silent observation, I thought I was going to _die,"_

 _"_ Ah, that's why you nearly failed,"

"One of many reasons. It was a difficult three months. Thanks, by the way," she says, suddenly serious, "For saying we'll go out together. I'm- I'm looking forward to it,"

It'll be nice to get out of the house and go somewhere together. Almost like being ordinary. She'll have to morph, and there's the money issue, and he'll probably be jittery the whole time about being seen. But she won't mind because it's him and it's them; this complicated thing that's only been going three weeks but which already feels so inexplicably right.

"That's quite alright," he smiles again, looking a bit shy, but pleased, "So am I. Now, loser's turn to deal, I believe".

And he hands her the pack of cards.


	21. Inside-Out

**This is a companion piece to the previous chapter, and is set a few weeks later.**

Inside-Out

Outside Number 12 Grimmauld Place, this whole thing is making Remus feel calmer than he has in years. The first few weeks of being with Tonks were thrilling and nerve-wracking and, well, amazing. The idea that she liked him was bafflingly wonderful and he'd had to get used to being touched and spoken to that way, to letting his guard down and having fun with her. For months he'd forced himself not to stare at her too long or laugh too hard at her silliness, so being able to do so when they were alone together was strange and lovely. It had been like finding a type of chocolate he'd liked as a child that he hadn't tasted again for years. But they're a few weeks in now and the initial exhilaration's worn off, making way for a sense of overall calm. Remus' worries don't seem as important when he's with Tonks, and he's sure he can take them on if she's beside him. When she touches him his body stills, his breath levels. He astonishes himself at the things he talks to her about; stuff he hasn't spoken of in years is suddenly easy to say if she's the one listening. She makes him feel happy and comfortable and _safe._

Inside Grimmauld Place everything is different. At Grimmauld place he feels giddy with lust and joy. In Order meetings he's sometimes so pre-occupied daydreaming about her that he loses track of the conversation and jumps when Mad-Eye barks, "Lupin, what do you reckon?". Sirius smirks and mocks him about it later, but he's hardly embarrassed by Sirius' teasing anymore. Padfoot was right- Tonks _did_ like him, she _does._ What an astounding turn of events, Remus grins to himself, and Sirius cackles and makes a crack about how he knew that all Moony needed was to get laid.

Outside Grimmauld he likes to think of their relationship as an intellectual one- yes, they kiss and hug and hold hands, but they spend more time talking, sharing anecdotes and making each other laugh. He reads her parts of books he's found interesting or funny; she tells him silly stories from her work and Diagon Alley. Outside headquarters Remus is militant about not being seen together. They've been out on dates a few times but he insists that Tonks morphs when they do, and the whole time they're out he's on the lookout for anybody who might recognise him. He much prefers spending time in together. Less worrying for him, much safer for her. He doesn't want it secret exactly, but…private. Tonks grumbled at first but she grudgingly goes along with it now- except in Grimmauld where she seems to want to get caught and, bizarrely, Remus enjoys that risk too. Inside 12 Grimmauld Place it's all physical; hands and mouths and necks, fumbling with each other's clothes and pushing one another against the wall. Inside the house all his pleas for discretion go out of the window. Remus is half-convinced that she's slipped Essence of Insanity into his drink because there's no other explanation for why he feels like this, why being found in the library with a girl on his lap seems exciting and sexy. Tonks, naturally, is all too aware of this and plays up to it in that show-off way she has. Most of the Order hug each other hello these days, and when Tonks hugs him she'll stroke a finger down his spine, nip at his ear or whisper that she's been thinking about him _all day._ If she's sitting on the other side of the table to him at a meeting Tonks will start tapping his toes with her shoe and then run her foot up his calf. When she sits beside him he finds himself holding her hand under the table. Sometimes her fingers doodle patterns on his thigh. If they're alone in the kitchen she'll mutter, "Hold still" and then run her hands over his shoulders, chest and back, mumbling that she needs to be touching him. Remus gropes her in return, knowing in the back of his mind how it'll look if somebody walked in on a werewolf with his hands all over a woman a decade and a half younger. If they were outside Grimmauld the thought would make him panicky, sickened even, but in here he doesn't care. A couple of times he's found a note in his pocket saying, _Meet me in the study. 10 mins_. When he gets there Tonks grabs his lapels and bundles him against the doorframe to snog. The study was gifted, if that's the right word, to them by Sirius. He's the only person whose caught them so far, and Remus isn't sure that Padfoot actually counts considering he's egged them both on from the start, and he can't leave the house.

Outside headquarters Remus' lust for her feels unclean to the point of perverted, and he's nervous at the thought of sex. The times he's done it before (though not for years now) it's been nice at the time but afterwards he's felt confused and ashamed. He's spent most of his adult life disgusted by the carnal, the animal. He's always tried to be more of a human than that, but the trouble is he's a man as well and of course he thinks about it, he wants it…and then he feels revolted at himself, and it's worse with Tonks being so much younger, and the truth is that the last few weeks have been so fantastic and he's scared that if they start doing anything more Tonks suddenly going to fully realise what he is and she's going not to want anything to do with him anymore, and who could blame her? Inside Grimmauld he none of that matters. She's so hot when she laughs, or when she's concentrating, when she teases people or when she's chattering excitedly. She's bonkers and alive and incredible. Why on earth is he denying himself her? Tonks has always worn tight t-shirts and short skirts although they seem to make more appearances at Order meetings these days, in what Remus suspects is an attempt to fluster him. When they're kissing and she puts his hands on her chest or hips he finds it hard to refuse, and sometimes he finds himself pulling at her clothes himself. When Tonks mumbles, "Is this okay?" before slipping her fingers underneath his shirt or into his back pocket he hears himself murmur in agreement. Once or twice recently Remus has had her backed up against the desk and Tonks has bitten her lip, gazed up at him with eyes she's morphed huge, whipped her t-shirt off and tossed it into the corner. His heart hammers and he feels hot all over and God, she is so beautiful. Wedged between him and the desk with so much skin on show for him to touch, lick, stroke, kiss. A ludicrously colourful bra. A wicked grin on her lips. In those moments and plenty more Remus has considered biting the bullet and asking her, "Look, shall we just get on with it right here?". That's why Sirius gave them the study after all. And Remus is sure that he'd feel less apprehensive about sex in there than he would at home or in her flat. But he wants to make their first time right for her- and he's sure that having sex on a dead man's office floor, surrounded by dusty heirlooms belonging to the family that disowned her mother, doesn't count as 'right'.

Outside Grimmauld he's embarrassed by how much older than Tonks he is and how even older than that he looks. Inside the house he feels younger than he has in years. It's like being sixteen and in the first flush of romance. She makes the decrepit house seem bright, and not just because of her ridiculous hair. Sometimes she'll completely pull the rug out from under him and instead of a frenzied snog and squeeze she'll want to corner him alone to hug him and burrow her face into his jumper.

"Everything alright?" he asks, because it's not like her to be clingy.

"Yeah," she'll reply into his chest, exhaling contently. Remus kisses her forehead and holds her against him, until there's a squeak outside the door and he reluctantly lets her go, asking himself why getting caught like this seems worse than getting caught snogging. Perhaps he suspects that if someone walked in on him holding her tenderly like this, they'd have questions, whereas if someone walked in on them when his tongue was down her throat, their interrupter would shut the door quietly and scurry away with a red face.

For weeks, outside Grimmauld Place Remus asked himself what someone like her- brilliant and bright and with so much in her future- was doing with someone like him; jaded, penniless and cursed. Tonks tells him that he isn't those things; she likes to sift her fingers through his hair and murmur words so kind and generous that Remus can't look at her. She must have fixed his face to a perfect imaginary boyfriend because the things she says cannot be true if they're about him. In Grimmauld, none of the hows and why-nots and when-is-she-going-to-realise matter. Tonks _has_ chosen him and in Grimmauld Remus lets himself believe the things she says. He believes he's worthy of her words and praise, her time and attention. Her love. And the amazing, intoxicating trouble, the kind of trouble that only this remarkable girl with dark eyes and pink hair could get him into, is that outside the house he's starting to believe it too.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading, and for 7000 views. I haven't had much feedback lately so if you fancy giving me an early Christmas present why not drop me a quick review? Thanks very much.**


	22. The Doorbell

**Set a couple of days after _Deathly Hallows_ Ch11, _The Bribe._**

The Doorbell

The last few days of July were hot. Rooftops and tarmac were scorching and windows were propped open even at night. At the Burrow everybody agreed that it was perfect weather for a wedding and hadn't Bill and Fleur been lucky.

The heatwave has broken now. It's raining as Remus trudges up the street towards the house belonging to his parents-in-law. He's only been here a few times before - his first visit was a month ago. He and Tonks had agreed that she'd tell her parents about their engagement on her own, and he would visit the next evening for dinner. Remus had remembered James telling him about his first meeting with the Evanses, and he'd thought that _surely_ meeting Dora's parents couldn't be worse than that? And, miraculously, it hadn't been. Andromeda made no effort to hide her distrust and dislike of Remus, and Ted had eyed his clothes disapprovingly (Remus had worn his best tie and least moth-eaten jumper, but his attire still screamed 'man who your daughter will spend the rest of her life supporting because he can't hold down a job'). He'd wanted to apologise and assure them that he had done everything he could to make Dora fall out of love with him, that he'd tried to shut down the same feelings in himself, but neither had worked. He'd wanted to explain that he's got a routine for the full moon and wouldn't be anywhere near her. He wanted to swear that he isn't the type of man they doubtless believe he is; he isn't violent, he doesn't live like an animal and he'll kill himself before he lays a finger on her. Remus hadn't said any of that of course. He'd thanked Tonks' parents for dinner about a hundred times and tried not to wince at his own bland remarks about the weather. When they'd left (Ted had shaken his hand, which was a shock but one that Remus was quite proud of), Dora had breathed a long sigh of relief and hugged him tightly.

...no chance of a hug, a handshake or any relief today, Remus thinks drily as the house becomes closer. Theirs is number forty-six. When he was a boy Remus had liked to remember the numbers of all the houses he'd lived in, although by the time he was ten there were too many to keep a track of. Is that what life is going to be like for his child?

Fifty-two. Fifty. Forty-eight. He pushes open the green gate (Dora had once told him that her mother had painted it) and walks up the path. Their front door looms. He steps onto the porch, reaches for the doorbell, then retracts his arm. Shoves his hand in his overcoat pocket. Grimaces at himself. Harry was right, he is a coward. Remus screws his eyes shut, takes a deep breath and forces himself to reach about again and punch the doorbell with his thumb. It is hard and cold. He hears the bell chime inside the house. No going back now. He's hardly thought about what he's going to say or do. Beg, probably. His stupid heart hammers under his jumper. Remus opens his eyes. The door takes forever too open and the door opens far too quickly. When it does, Andromeda's face meets him. The face then curls into a glare. Beautifully terrifying, like her big sister. There's an excruciatingly long pause while the drizzle patters down. Then Andromeda says, "What t-shirt was my husband wearing the day we met?"

It's an intentionally hard question. Remus thinks for a moment, then states, "Ballycastle Bats v Wigtown Wanderers, Four Nations Final 1982,"

Andromeda nods curtly, satisfied with the answer. It's the only thing she is satisfied about.

"Remus," she says coldly.

"Hello, Andromeda". It's a good job that she's not the type of woman mollified by smiles because Remus can't muster one.

"Mum?" calls a voice, "Whose there? Have you checked them, I don't-" the words die in Tonks' mouth as she stumbles into the hallway. Remus' heart stops pounding and performs a horribly wonderful flip-clench-spasm-skip-lurch manoeuvre. Her hair's shoulder-length and green, she's wearing her rip-kneed black jeans and her navy tailcoat, and is it his imagination or does she look paler than usual? If she does, if she's pale or ill or tired it's all his fault. All of this is his fault.

This pause isn't as long as the previous one, which surprises him. Then Tonks says, "You look like shit,"

"I know," Remus manages to respond, voice rasping.

Dora looks him in the eye for a painful moment, then says, "Mum, I'm going out,"

"Nymphadora-" Andromeda protests, but Tonks cuts across her.

"I'll be back later,"

She jams her feet into her Converse (they were originally white but she's doodled on them so much over the years that they're now a blur of variously coloured inks), grabs the red cagoule that's hanging on the banister and wrestles it on over her tailcoat, and marches out of the house without a backward glance. She swerves around Remus as she passes to avoid touching him. He grimaces and watches as Dora strides down the garden path and out of the gate. Remus isn't sure what he's supposed to do, but Tonks swings around snaps, "Come on".

Oh, he's supposed to follow. Remus hurries down the path and trots behind his wife as she keeps walking, out of the gate and out onto the pavement. Tonks steps in a puddle and the muddy water splashes around them both. After dinner with her parents that first time he'd offered her his arm as they walked back down here (she'd rolled her eyes at his old-fashioned manners but linked her arm through the crook of his anyway). It seems a universe away. Gingerly, Remus speeds up so that he's walking on a level with Tonks, and he's grateful that she doesn't look at him.

But she starts to talk. "When we were first together," Dora says thoughtfully, "I thought you were perfect. I really did. I know nobody's supposed to be perfect but I thought you were the exception,"

Rain pitters. Tonks snorts mirthlessly and continues, "I was an idiot. You were too good to be true. But I'm not going to scream and shout at you, because that's what you want, isn't it? You want me to tell you that you're a worthless excuse of a man and I hate you, so that you can go away forever and wallow in your worthlessness and how much I hate you. I'm not going to give you the satisfaction. I love you. I love you so bloody much that it hurts. Okay, now you talk," she orders.

Usually Remus would digest everything she's said before replying, but this time he blurts, "I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I panicked, but I'm back now, I promise. And I'm in this a hundred percent if you still want me to be,"

"Don't do that. Don't give me that 'if you want me to be' self-pity. Don't put this in my hands," she snaps, "Of course I want you to be. That's not the point. This is on _you_. How can I trust you? How do I know you're not going to do this the next time you panic?". Her voice is sharper than he's ever heard it, and her fingers sketch quotation marks around the last word.

"I swear to you-"

"On what, Remus? What's left for you to swear on? Your life? You risked that running away from us to spy on Greyback, you risk it all the time. Our marriage? Oh right, the marriage that you wrote in your note was a 'grave mistake'. Our baby? _You abandoned our baby,_ "

He takes a breath. "Sirius. I swear to you on Sirius,"

"For Merlin's sake, it's not about finding something to swear on! It's not about your oaths and your apologies and your obsession with proving to everybody how little you deserve,"

She always gets to the point, even when she's angry. How could he have hurt her like this again? How could he have ruined this so badly?

Remus wracks his brain for some kind of explanation, and settles on telling her, "I went to see Harry. The three of them got out of the wedding and they're- well, I won't tell you where they are in case we get questioned. They're undertaking a mission for Dumbledore as we thought. Harry wouldn't tell me what it was but I offered them my help," he pauses, wondering how to verbalise what happened next. He should tell her the truth but he isn't sure he can. He hadn't realised Harry was so astute- he's clearly been underestimating everybody. Remus Lupin is the idiot after all.

"Harry refused. He- he was angry at me, furious. He told me that his father would want me to stay with my own child,"

Dora meets his eye. "So you're back because Harry Potter told you to be?"

" _Tonks,"_ he groans. The rain is bouncing off his shoulders.

"Think for yourself for once," she spits, and she stops walking and wheels round to face him, "What do you want? Not what you think you should do, or what Harry says, or what any of our dead friends would tell you to do. You. What do _you_ want?"

Remus thinks. He remembers Harry's face, twisted with hurt, rage and indigence. He remembers that face when that face was a year old, a week old, a happy baby. He'd giggled and wriggled; Remus had liked touching his tiny fingers and chubby fists, and then he'd met him on the train all those years later, still a boy then but a man now. He'd been so angry. Remus thinks of his twelve wilderness years taking awful jobs and living in damp, dilapidated houses he'd had to hold up with magic. Of being so lonely and feeling such a waste. Colleagues came and went, and he didn't like to impinge his reputation on his family too often; books were his only constant. He remembers the moment before he kissed Tonks for the first time, realising what was about to happen and knowing he should be scared, but then her lips touched his and it felt comfortable and exciting and like home. She was thrilled when she told him she was pregnant and her face crumpled when he didn't return her joy.

He remembers the werewolf camp and the men and women whom Greyback had raised after biting them. They were so aggressive even in amongst their werewolf family, bubbling with resentment, not for the man who had bitten them but for the world he'd convinced them that they didn't belong to. If it hadn't been for Mam and Dad, Remus would have had that rage too. Mam and Dad could have abandoned him, they could have smothered him in his sleep after he was bitten. It would have made life easier for them. Spared them all from this pain. But they didn't. They loved him and cared for him, like Tonks does. Mam got tired and ill, Dad was twitchy about people finding out. They had thought it was worth it. He was worth it. They wanted to give him a chance at happiness. Dora makes him so incredibly happy and alive that it astonishes him...but could the baby? What if the baby's like him (he's sure it'll be like him) and he and Dora aren't as strong as Mam and Dad- what if they argue? They've argued plenty since they got married, and before. It wouldn't be fair for the child to grow up like that, on top of the fact that the child will be a werewolf. How on earth could he have done this to an innocent? He's spent his whole life terrified of biting someone and now he's done something even worse.

Remus thinks of Dolores Umbridge's laws, and the names Sirius used about her to cheer him up. He remembers late nights with Sirius in their school dormitory, hooting with cackles about what the Blacks would say if they knew that Sirius' best friend was a werewolf. If Sirius was here now he'd be- no. Dora told him not to think of what anybody else would say. This is on him. _What do you want?_ This is not black or white, there is no right choice to be made. Perhaps that's why he panicked; he likes having rules and Right Choices. But this time there is only his choice, what he wants. And suddenly Remus knows that in spite of everything, he wants this child and this family. This. This life. This joy.

"I want this. I want us". His voice sounds hoarse.

"Are you sure?" Dora demands, "Because you were sure at our wedding,"

"Yes. Yes, I am sure," Remus says, and as the words come out of his mouth he believes it. He looks here in the eye. "I've been a terrible husband and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you and to the baby, I don't care if it's a werewolf or a Squib or an elephant,"

"I don't think our baby's an elephant," she says, and she's smirking, and he risks a smile back.

"I'm sorry for everything, not just for leaving but for how moody and miserable I was before. I'm done with that now. All I've ever wanted is to do right by you, and I thought that that's what I was doing, but I was wrong,"

"Again. Twice you've done this to me now," Dora points out, and her voice is now more hurt than accusatory. The rain's plastering her hair to her face and shoulders.

"I know. All I can tell you is that it won't be three. Pushing you away or running off isn't doing right by you and I know that now. It makes everything worse because-" he cuts himself off, unable to finish the sentence. Can he even believe it's true after all this?

"Say it. You know it's true so say it," Tonks orders, as if reading his mind.

Remus forces the words out hurriedly: "It makes everything worse because you love me,"

"Yeah I do, and do you know how much it hurts when you act like you don't believe it or that it isn't enough? Like my feelings for you aren't as important. You have no _idea_ how patronising that is,"

"I'm sorry. You're right, I don't have any idea so I should start listening to you more,"

"You should start believing me more,"

Remus starts to tell her that he'll try but before he can she bursts out, "My parents were _tortured!_ Death Eaters put the Cruciatus on my parents and the next day you take off claiming it's _you_ whose putting me in danger?!"

She laughs. He tries not to notice that it's the same hysterical laugh as her aunt Bellatrix, "Could you _be_ any more self-centred?!"

Remus doesn't know what to say to that, but fortunately he doesn't have to because Tonks continues, "Is this why you didn't want a wedding ring, because you had it in the back of your mind that you'd bail if things didn't go your way? You disappeared in the night leaving a note! Who knew you were such a drama queen? You have no idea how _humiliating_ that was for me, how much it was for Mum and Dad to deal with _after they were tortured_. Didn't you think they hated you enough?"

It's true, it's all true, and that makes it hurt more. Remus lets her words crash over him. "And if it _is_ a werewolf," she says witheringly, "Did you honestly believe that you were doing me a favour by leaving me to deal with it on my own? Were you going to wash your hands of us completely or would it get a birthday card and a sickle every year? Lucky bloody kid,"

It sounds so stupid when she puts it like that. She always talks sense- why hadn't he listened before? Why hadn't he asked her?

Then Dora says in a quieter voice, "I said I wasn't going to shout and scream and tell you that you're awful,"

"No. Well. I suppose I'm an easy target," he mutters. Water's seeping in through the soles of his shoes, dampening his toes.

"Yeah, you bloody are," Tonks growls. She turns away, rakes a hand through her green hair. Remus suspects that she's crying, and it hurts that she doesn't want him to see. But when she turns back there's no trace of tears.

"Look, let's go home, let's not make a spectacle of ourselves in public again. I wasn't kidding when I said you look shit. You need a cup of tea and a bath. I'll go back to Mum and Dad's to tell them we're going and to make sure they'll be alright without me. You can wait at the end of the street," Dora tells him. She says none of this kindly.

"Thank you," he acknowledges. Sparing him from the wrath of his parents-in-law a small mercy, although Remus doubts that she's acting out of generosity towards him.

Tonks looks at him with narrowed eyes as if considering snapping something, but seems to decide against it. She turns away and marches back through the rain towards the house. Remus looks down at his battered, soggy shoes. But out of the corner of his eye he seems Dora turn back, just for a moment, to glance at him. He'd like to think that it's because she's missed him and once to steal another look. Although realistically, he winces to himself, Tonks is looking back to check that he hasn't gone away again.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading. This chapter was a challenge to write so I'd be interested to know what you thought of it. If you have time, a review or two would be much appreciated.** **I'll be taking a break from this fic for the next few weeks. Thanks very much to everybody who was read, favourited and reviewed this year. Have a merry Christmas and a fab New Year. See you in 2019.**


	23. And Ampersand

And Ampersand

Molly Weasley's youngest son clattered downstairs and into the kitchen, clutching a stack of dirty plates and a mug.

"Right, that's all of it," he huffed, dumping the crockery in the sink and twisting the tap on.

"That's half the kitchen you've had squirreled away up there," Molly grumbled. Ron was almost as slobby as Charlie had been as a teenager, hoarding plates and glasses in his bedroom for weeks.

"I know, I know," Ron mumbled, hastily scrubbing the toast crumbs and solidified butter off the plates.

"Tonks and Kinglsey are coming home with your father after work so we're going to need those extra plates to-"

"Mum, I know what you're trying to do," said Ron, glancing round to pin her with a look, which was rather shrewder than his usual expression.

Molly wasn't sure what he meant and replied in what she hoped was a cool tone, "And what is it I'm trying to do?"

"Mum. Come on. It's obvious,"

"If it's so obvious then spit it out,"

"You're trying to set Bill up with Tonks, and it isn't going to work so why don't you just drop it?"

Molly stared at him. What was he talking about? "Where did you possibly get that idea?"

"You keep inviting her over. It's pretty blatant," Ron informed her, with the pitying superiority only displayed by sixteen-year-olds, "Bill's not interested so you might as well stop dangling Tonks in front of his nose and accept that he's going to marry Fleur,"

Anger flared in Molly. What kind of assumptions was he coming up with and why in Merlin's name did he think _that?_

"Listen to me, Ron," she ordered, "I have no intention of setting Bill up with Tonks. I don't know where you got the impression that that's why I've been inviting her over, but you need to forget it. Understand?"

Ron balked in the perplexed way he often did when Molly snapped at him. Then he stammered, "So- so why do you keep having her over? I mean, she's nice and everything but she's a bit of a downer at the moment,"

"And don't you think that's why?" Molly demanded, "Don't you think that given she's having a tough time she could do with some support?"

He's a sweet boy but emotional intelligence has never been his strong point. He's put two and two together and made seventeen.

"Oh," Ron mumbled. He looked as if he was going to say something else, but then shut is mouth.

"You might want to consider this a bit more sensitively before you start gossiping," Molly informed him.

"I do not _gossip,"_ Ron protested.

"It's time you stopped coming up with theories about who I'm trying to set up with whom, and showing a bit more sensitivity,"

Ron didn't say anything and turned back to his washing up. Molly watched him with a mild glare. Despite having raised five already, teenage boys were still a mystery. Molly was grateful that he had Hermione to keep him on his toes.

The back door clattered open and Bill strolled into the kitchen. Ron glanced round to check who it was and, seeing it was the person he'd just been discussing, fixed his eyes to the sink and started scrubbing his plates harder.

"Working like a house-elf there," Bill noted, "What's brought this on?"

"Mum," Ron muttered.

"Ah. Well, Harry and I have nearly finished de-gnoming outside so I thought I'd take Fleur on a walk into the village. Is she upstairs, Mum?"

Of course he wanted to go out with her; they spent all their time together. Bill was barely back from five years in Egypt, but it seemed he hadn't missed Molly half as much as she'd missed him.

"Mmm," Molly mumbled.

"Right, I'll find her then we'll be off. See you later," Bill announced. He leant over to ruffle Ron's hair and Ron elbowed him away. Bill chuckled and headed up the stairs.

"Make sure you're back for dinner," Molly called after him.

Bill leaned over the banister and told her, "It's alright, I've got that Muggle money saved upstairs so I'm taking Fleur out to the chip shop,"

It took a great deal of integrity for Molly not to roll her eyes. "Kingsley and Tonks are coming over, I think they'd like to see you," she said pointedly.

"Come off it, Mum -they've got better things to do than chat to me," Bill scoffed, "Anyway, I told Fleur that if she's going to move here she's got to try a proper English fish and chips. We'll be back before it's dark. Bye,"

And he bounded upstairs. Molly glanced over at Ron, still splashing plates around in the sink. In most ways her eldest and youngest son were very different- Bill was more studious, Ron more hot-headed. Bill was musical whereas Ron was good at wordplay. Ron was on the Quidditch team, Bill had got a silver medal in a translation competition. Bill wouldn't have got muddled about who was falling in love with each other...but right now, the way he was so attached to Fleur and brushing off everybody else, he wasn't being much more emotionally intelligent than his littlest brother.

"See," Molly heard herself say, "As if he's got eyes for anybody but her,"

"Alright, I get it, that's what _I_ said," Ron huffed.

"Sorry, didn't mean to snap". Molly found herself snapping a lot these days. Everything that was going on and how in the line of fire their family were should have made her kinder and more patient with her children, but in reality she'd become tense and waspish.

Ron shoved the cleaned plates onto the drying rack. Molly saw him glance at her as if considering whether he should ask her to dry them by magic or if he should do it by hand.

"I'll do it," she told him, feeling guilty, "You go outside with Harry,"

"Thanks, Mum," Ron grinned, and bolted towards the back door. Happy to be getting away from her, like Bill had been. When he got to the door he turned back and added loudly, half-irritated and half-joking, "And for the record, we will _not_ be gossiping!".


	24. Sardines For Dinner

_Take a moment, relax, try to inhale_

 _And imagine that everything's fine_

 _Before you notice your life start to derail_

 _Just remember the future's still bright._

 _So I'll give what I got whether they like it or not_

 _I'm not changing the plot to my story_

 _I've got brains, I've got heart, and I've got plenty of time_

 _So why should I be scared of two little lines_

\- _Two Little Lines,_ Kasie Gasparini

Sardines For Dinner

 **Monday**

Remus feels the duvet being yanked off him and hears a clatter as something drops to the floor. He peels his eyes open.

"Sorry," his wife mutters, not turning around to see if he's awake. She crawls to her feet and staggers out of the room. Remus has never been in the type of person who needs a couple of seconds the remember where he is if he's in a strange bed- he remembers straight away that this is Charlie Weasley's bedroom at the Burrow. Molly insisted that Remus, Tonks and Hagrid stay here last night- with Kingsley with the Prime Minister and Moody dead, everybody else who'd be involved in Harry's movement from Surrey was living at the Burrow anyway. Remus reckons that Molly was right when she told them that after planning for nine people to stay overnight, three more didn't count for much, even a half-giant.

Last night, once glasses were drained and plates empty and a sad tiredness had set in inside the Burrow, Arthur had shown Remus and Tonks up to Charlie's old bedroom, which still contains a range of cages, branches and tanks. Remus reckons he might have seen a frog climb out from under the bed last night. Mr Weasley had found a couple old of pairs of Charlie's pyjamas, then said a sombre goodnight and shut the door. Tonks, who had been silent for the last few minutes, immediately sank into the bed and started to cry. Remus sat beside her and lifted her onto his lap, rocking her gently and she sobbed into his shoulder. Mad-Eye's death had thrown him, but he had to remain stoic for her. Tonks and Moody had been family, almost, or at least as good friends as Mad-Eye ever was with anybody. She should have known better than anybody that he wasn't invincible but the cruelty of his death, blasted out of the sky on what was a seemingly low-risk operation, had stunned everyone.

Eventually, Remus had persuaded her to put on Charlie's pyjamas and climb into bed. She'd burrowed into Remus' chest and, when her tears had subsided a little, she started telling him stories about Mad-Eye. The first time they met, the time he left his eye in her boot, the argument they had about Circe Hodgkinson, the card he gave to her when she passed Auror training, in which he wrote his initials and nothing else.

"No even a 'To' or 'From'," Dora explained with a tearful laugh.

It had been past three on the morning by the time Remus feel asleep. Now, he can hear her staggering into the bathroom next-door and slamming the door so hard the walls shake. He winces at the thought of the day ahead. Mad-Eye's death seems worse in the morning light. Remus is certain that the Death Eaters will have got hold of his body. Chances are they'll mutilate it, burn it or leave it to rot. Worst case is they'll publicise their victory. Killing Mad-Eye Moody will make the Death Eaters look strong, Remus thinks, then notes that that's the sort of practical observation Moody would have made.

"Hi," says a faint voice. Tonks has reappeared in the door way. She's pale and her body looks small and swamped in Charlie's old pyjamas. She wipes her mouth with her arm.

"Are you alright?" Remus asks softly, gesturing for her to come back into bed.

"I was sick,"

"That happens sometimes," he explains, holding a hand out. He wants to pull her close and stroke her hair and make her feel safe, "It's the shock, don't-"

"Will you _stop_ talking to me like I'm a child?" she snaps, "You do my head in sometimes,"

Her words land heavily for a moment. Then she droops, stumbles over to the bed and mutters, "Sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't sleep and I've just been sick and I..."

She sits down and flops against Remus' side. "I knew that I wouldn't wake up and it hadn't happened, but I hoped. I never imagined he'd die. I thought about it if it was you or Mum and Dad or the Weasleys, but never him," she whispers.

Very gently, Remus presses his lips to her hair. "I know,"

Silence rests for a moment. He puts his arm around her shoulders. Dora scrubs a tear from her eye. "He hated crying. He used to tell me off from crying. He didn't-" she says, half-laughing, "He didn't have a clue what to do when I was crying over you. Totally hopeless,"

 _H_ _e wasn't the only one,_ Remus thinks to himself.

Tonks sniffs and continues, "I didn't get to say thank you to him. I didn't...we didn't say that kind of stuff to each other; he wasn't like that,"

"No, he wasn't,"

"There was so much I had to thank him for," she murmurs. Remus knows that feeling well. Things left unsaid. Conversations he didn't have time to have with James and Lily, and words which were too difficult to say to Sirius. Confessions and apologies he was too ashamed to admit to his mother.

Then Dora says thickly, "I was sick yesterday morning,"

"What?"

Tonks buries her face into his neck, so her voice is muffled when she elaborates: "Before work. You were still in bed. I didn't tell you 'cos I didn't want you to worry before last night,"

Remus feels her press a tearful kiss to his neck as she mumbles, "I'm sorry,"

"That's alright," Remus tells her. It isn't important, really. Dora's right- he'd have felt concerned about her vomiting, and he'd have been uneasy about her participating in the task, and she'd have insisted that she wanted to come, and they'd have argued. They argue a lot, he reflects dejectedly- nine times out of ten it's Dora wanting to do something and him not wanting her to do it. He understands why she didn't want to have another one of those awkward, stressful disagreements.

"Maybe it was my stomach trying to tell me something bad was going to happen," Tonks suggests, then corrects herself, "No, that's stupid. Mad-Eye would hate me thinking that,"

"He didn't have time for Divination?"

She peels her face away from his neck. "He'd have slapped you for saying that. Feelings aren't the same as Divination- he got cross when people muddled them. He used to tell me that one's science and one's superstition,"

She smiled, then turned grave. She pressed her forehead against Remus' and clutched him tightly.

"I'm going to miss him so much".

* * *

 **Tuesday**

Tonks slams the ten sickles two knuts onto the counter, shoves the bottle of Diagnotion Potion into her robe pocket and hurries out of the shop. There are spare bottles of Diagnotion Potion in the Auror office, although it's only official use- and under Scrimgeour nicking some isn't a risk worth taking. Mad-Eye, Tonks thinks grimly, would let her get away with it. Would _have_ let her.

The sun's hot as she jogs back through Diagon Alley to the Leaky Cauldron, which is noisy and bustling with the lunchtime crowd. She checked on the way through earlier to make sure that nobody she knows is in there- Sylvester Magamba, two years above and in Ravenclaw, is dealing playing cards for a couple of punters, but he doesn't notice Tonks and she doesn't look his way. The route to the bar is busy, but what's the point of being an Auror if it can't help you jump a queue?

"Ministry of Magic law enforcement, search warrant," Tonks calls, flashing her Auror ID and elbowing her way through the crowd, "Need to investigate your stock room, Tom,"

"Why?" asks the barman, looking alarmed.

"Ministry's received a tip-off," she lies easily, "You know how it is these days,"

"Don't need to kick everyone out, do I?" asks Tom.

"Not at present. I'll let you know if that's a necessary precaution," Tonks recites, in her most official tone.

Tom tips his head and lets her into the stockroom. It's cramped and dusty and nobody has received a tip off about anything dodgy which might have been planted in there. Tonks locks the door with her wand, takes the bottle from her pocket and sits on the floor to read the back of its label.

 _Sipasi's Diagnotion Potion- For all your medical needs_

 _Instructions: Take two teaspoons of potion. After twenty seconds, the potion left in the bottle will change in colour. Each colour signifies an ailment/ condition (see Usage Guide below)._

 _Disclaimer: Sipasi's Diagnotion Potion is 99% accurate. Not for sale to under 14s- see our children's range for more products._

 _Sipasi's Diagnotion Potion Usage Guide:_

 _Orange- Common cold_

 _Red- Flu_

 _Green- Dragon pox_

 _Yellow- Spattergroit_

 _Pink- Pregnancy (witches only)_

 _Blue- Measles_

 _Purple- Mumps_

 _Turquoise- Rubella_

 _If there is no colour change, patient is not ill and needs to stop whingeing._

Tonks can't help but feel more nervous. She's pretty sure that she doesn't have dragon pox, but the instructions on the bottle state the possibility of it, which is hardly reassuring. There's bottle-opener left on a shelf, and Tonks taps in with her wand to transfigure it into a teaspoon. The stockroom is stuffy so she unclips her Auror robes and shrugs them off. Tonks has a strange suspicion that the blue dress she's wearing underneath will always remind her of this moment. She just hopes that it's for good and not for, well, ill.

Then she opens the bottle and pours the spoon full.

 _Here goes nothing,_ she thinks, eyeing it uneasily. Tonks swallows the spoonful, then pours herself another and gulps it down too. It tastes strangely of lemon juice. _Okay,_ she thinks, _twenty seconds to wait now_. Tonks mutters out loud the seven core Singaporean defensive jinxes- one of Mad-Eye's favourite tests for her, a question he'd chuck at her whenever he wanted to keep her on her toes. _He'll never do that again_ , Tonks realises miserably. Nobody will ever demand that level of quick-thinking and knowledge and cunning anymore. She wipes away a tear.

Twenty seconds, that must be it. _Please not dragon pox,_ she wishes, _not now_. Then she holds up the bottle.

Pink. Not dragon pox. And not blue for measles either- that's a relief. But what was pink again? Tonks scans down the instruction label. _Pink- pregnancy_.

What?

 _What?_

No way. There's a mistake. Somebody's brewed it wrong or it's a joke potion- the sort of con that the Weasley twins would find amusing. She's reading the bottle wrong- it's red and she's coming down with the flu. That makes more sense. She can't be...she's not pregnant. She can't possibly be pregnant.

…But what about her missing period? She'd put the lateness down to stress- Dumbledore and Snape and work and the wedding and Remus- but it's been almost fortnight now and she's never been this late before…. she didn't get hold of a contraceptive potion until the day before the wedding either. _For goodness sake,_ Tonks winces, _why didn't I run out to the apothecary at lunchtime like I've had to today?_ Remus said he'd do the prophylactic charm on himself as a precaution, and it isn't like him to be careless. When they were together last year, actual shagging made him uneasy sometimes- he'd preferred hands and mouths and cuddling. But since they got engaged he'd been much keener. In those glorious four days after their wedding he'd wanted to do stuff Tonks never thought he would- standing up, on the floor, doggy-style. But she was taking the contraceptive potion by then, so if- _if if if if if_ she's pregnant, it must have happened before they got married. How many times did they have sex before she started taking the potion- three? Or was it four? She can't remember the number of times, she can just remember his skin and lips and body, the way they move together, the giggles and mingled breath, the words he murmus to her and the things she moans back, the ecstasy and the love and how incredibly _good_ it feels. Too good, clearly, and now look where she's ended up- locked in the stockroom of the Leaky Cauldron with a pink Diagnotion Potion and no clue what to do.

"This is a turn-up for the books, isn't it? Bet you're feeling bloody smug in there," Tonks sighs, unthinkingly putting a hand to her stomach, "Bet you're having a right old giggle to yourself. You and me both, kid,"

Then she starts to laugh. Well, it _is_ funny- a year spent pining for Remus to come home, and barely two weeks after they're married she's knocked up with his baby. It _would_ happen to her, wouldn't it? Anyway, Tonks reckons (biting her lip to stop the laughter bursting out and alarming Tom, whose probably got his ear pressed against the door), it could be worse- she'll be twenty-five at Christmas, which is way more sensible than Mum getting pregnant at nineteen. At least three of Tonks' classmates from school have kids by now, too. She's got a job that pays decently, and a flat she can afford. The baby was made through passionate, joyful lovemaking with her husband, not a grotty one-night-stand with a man she's barely friends with. Plus, said husband is patient and supportive and endlessly kind. She doesn't think he's ever thought about being a parent before, but she knows he's going to be fantastic. All the kids have told her that he's the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher they've had, and being a parent isn't so different from being a teacher, except you have to cuddle them and wipe their noses and always be there. Always, for the next eleven years. Merlin, it's intimidating when you look at it like that.

"Jack, it's ten to," calls a male voice from across the pub.

Tonks jolts.

"For goodness sake!" responds the friend. Through the door, Tonks hears a chair scrape backwards and the clink of coins being dropped on a table.

 _Bollocks,_ she thinks. Ten to three- she's got to be back in the office by the hour. How the hell is she supposed to concentrate with all this to think about? It's been hard enough the last couple of days having to pretend that Mad-Eye hadn't just died. Mad-Eye. Tonks' hand goes to her stomach again instinctively as she thinks about the old Auror. Gone in a moment- saying goodbye wasn't his style, but she'll never forgive herself for not thanking him.

Tonks realises her hands on her belly and startles. What a weird thing to do for comfort, she thinks, to touch the place the baby's growing, when she only found out it was in there a couple of minutes ago. What would Mad-Eye say if he knew she was pregnant? The useful thing about him is that he's predictable. _Was_ that he _was_ predictable, Tonks corrects. Mad-Eye had rules for when you were panicking. She doesn't know what he'd say about her getting pregnant, but she knows what he'd say about a situation where she's panicked: _What are you going to do? Next five minutes, next hour, next twenty-four hours._

Tonks takes a deep breath. Next five minutes: Get up off the stockroom floor, tell Tom everything's fine, and apparate back to the Ministry.

Next hour: Grit her teeth and get through it. In an hour's time it'll be four, and she's leaving work at half seven.

Next twenty-four hours: Tonks' first thought is that she'll have to tell Remus- but that idea curls up and shrinks away as soon as it enters her mind. Bad idea. _She's_ got to think it through first, get it straight on her own head. But she could do with an evening snuggled on the sofa with him, feeling his warmth and solidness and- _crap,_ she winces, _dammit dammit dammit bollocks arsehole-_ Kingsley and Dedalus are coming over tonight. There's Order stuff to sort out. The one night she needs to be alone with Remus, she'll have to spend strategising and planning and studying maps. Bugger. Today's going to take a lot of teeth-gritting, then, Tonks sighs to herself. Well, she's used to that, she's had weekends away with Dawlish. Besides, it'll be good practise for labour. Tonks catches herself at the thought, realising that she's thinking like she's going to have this baby _. You could take a Termination Libation,_ she reminds herself. Make all the thinking-through and confusion disappear. She could swing by the apothecary again in the morning to pick the potion up- she wouldn't even have to tell Remus. She could make everything go back to normal. But the world isn't normal at the moment, is it? It's not going to be normal for a very long time. And normal, Tonks thinks, standing up off the floor and pulling her Auror robe back on, has never been her sort of thing.

* * *

Remus watches her get changed for bed, feeling irritated. Kingsley and Dedalus were over earlier on Order business, and Tonks was clingy all evening. She and Kingsley came home from work together, and as soon as she stepped out of the fire she leapt at Remus and kissed him on the mouth- not a peck, but a deep and lingering kiss, winding her arms around his neck. Remus winces, remembering Kingsley's eyes flicking uncomfortably around the room. Remus had pushed his wife away gently, hoping she'd get the message- _not in front of other people, Dora. You know that embarrasses me_. It makes him feel nervous too- even in front of their friends he can't help but feel that the eyes on them are disapproving, thinking he's lecherous and dangerous. His insistence on discretion is usually something Tonks goes along with, since she understands why he prefers to be private. This evening, though, she didn't take the hint. When everybody sat down to talk, she sat beside Remus and held his hand and kept leaning into him. She drummed her fingers on his knee when she was thinking. Every time she got up to refill the kettle or fetch more biscuits, Tonks would squeeze his shoulder, as if to remind him that she'd be back beside him in a moment or two. Remus had tried to bat her away as subtly as he could without letting on to Kingsley and Dedalus that he was cross with her.

Tonks had been clingy the night Mad-Eye died, and Remus had let her- she was shocked and grieving, she needed to feel that her husband was there and know that he'd comfort her and look after her. Last night she'd been crying and quiet too. But the Dora who stepped out of the fireplace this evening had seemed a different person to the one who'd collapsed into his arms yesterday. She'd seemed cheerful and bright tonight, if also more jittery and intense than usual, and strangely distracted. Today she hadn't spoken as much as she usually did, but when she did talk her words tumbled out ten to the dozen. She kept insisting on getting more tea and biscuits, and when she was sitting beside Remus her legs jigged up and down, like an excited child. It was rather manic, Remus reflects uneasily. Is this just another part of her grief? He pushed her away after Sirius died, so he wouldn't know.

Remus studies his wife as she takes her dress off, unhooks her bra, chucks them both into the open draw, then pulls on her pyjama top and shorts. When she catches him looking, Remus pretends to be concentrating on his book. They haven't had any time alone together this evening- Kingsley and Dedalus only left ten minutes ago (there was more to discuss than anticipated in the wake of Mad-Eye's death). Tonks crawls up the bed to where he's sitting and puts both her hands on his shoulders.

"My husband," she sighs contentedly. She pecks him on the lips- it's light but lingering, and full of love, "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me,"

His heart flutters when she says things like that; so sweet and touching and entirely undeserved. He's getting better at looking her in the eye when she says those things, although tonight Remus can't help but glance faux-distractedly at the ceiling. Dora shakes him a little and cups a hand to his cheek so he's forced to look into her eyes.

"I mean it. I am so proud to be married to you,"

She pulls him towards and hugs him in a way which manages to be both tight and tender. One of her hands rubs its palm up and down his back, while the fingers on her other hand curl into his hair. _See,_ he thinks, _this is why I don't like anybody seeing. It's better when it's just us._ There's still something odd about this all though, Remus muses when his wife lets him go. Dora scuffs his cheek with her thumb and presses a light kiss to his forehead, then climbs under the duvet on her side of the bed (strange, Remus thinks, that they've been married barely three weeks and already they have their sides of her bed). Usually she spoons up behind him to sleep, and feeling her pressed against his back, an arm around his shoulder and her hand over his heartbeat, is possibly his favourite thing in the world. He never feels safer than lying with her like that. Although the last two nights Tonks been shivering and weeping- she's needed _him_ to hold _her_. Remus isn't sure what she wants tonight, so he gets under the covers, settles onto his back and waits for her to decide. He feels Tonks looking at him for a moment, and then she shifts over and rests her head over his heartbeat, wrapping her arm across his torso round to his waist. She sighs dreamily again. Not for the first time, Remus notes that his wife is very, very peculiar.

"Good night," he murmurs.

"Night, my love," she breathes. She's never called him that before.

The night Mad-Eye died she hardly slept, and she didn't do much better last night. Now, in bed with the minutes ticking by, Remus can tell that Tonks is awake and alert. She's fidgeting, untangling and retangling their legs and shifting her head around against him. They often ask each other _what are you thinking about?_ although this time Remus doesn't think he wants to know the answer. It can't be Mad-Eye, though- she'd be sobbing if it was Mad-Eye on her mind, or at least brushing her tears away with his pyjama t-shirt. Remus glances down at her pink head. He doesn't think he'll ever understand her. Perhaps he's fretting about her too much- he should trust that Tonks will tell him what she needs from him, and until then there's other stuff he should be thinking about- Harry. Dumbledore. Snape. The next full moon. Harry's birthday. The Weasley wedding. The Order. Voldemort.

 _Plenty of things,_ Remus tells himself, _and since when has Dora ever been shy about telling you her feelings?_ This is a part of grieving for Mad-Eye; she's trying to re-stabilise herself. _And if that means that she needs to snog you in front of your friends, then you're either going to have to tell her not to, or get a grip and let her do it. It's hardly the most pressing matter you've got to deal with now._

Remus wraps an arm around her shoulder and presses a kiss to her hair. _She'll be alright,_ he promises himself, _she's tough. She's just working out how to get back to normal without Moody. It isn't anything to worry about._

* * *

 **Wednesday**

Tonks is already calling his name when she jumps out of the fireplace. Tonight. She's going to tell him tonight. She needed yesterday to get her head around it all, which had been easier said than done with Kingsley and Daedalus round. She'd barely slept, mulling it over and over. Money, time, work, the war, the Order, Bellatrix, Remus, Mum and Dad, the flat, her friends…she'd thought through everything again and again and again, playing out every circumstance. In a lot of those circumstances, taking a Termination Libation to get rid of the baby seemed a sensible idea. But in _every_ circumstance, keeping the baby seemed a fantastic idea. The thing is, she's _lucky_ to be having this baby with this man _now_. Lucky that this has happened. And yeah, it'd be cray to go ahead with it, but it'd be crazy to throw something this unexpected and incredible away too. Remus probably won't see it that way at first, but she's sure that he'll be pleased. And he'll come around to it more soon.

"Remus! Remus, where are you, I need to talk to you," she yelps, "9878!"

Instead of security questions, they use code numbers to check for imposters.

Remus appears in the doorway clutching a stack of papers. Her stomach lurches at the sight of him, not in the sickened way of the last couple of mornings, but in a bouncing, joyful way, as if the baby is thrilled to be near its father.

"Hello. Everything alright?" he asks, then gives her his number: "2436,"

"I'm fine. It's all fine, I have to tell you something,"

Tonks climbs out of the fireplace, takes the papers from his hand and hugs him hard, pressing her nose into his collar. He always smells good- soap and tea and parchment. Home. _I am having your baby,_ she thinks, feeling euphoria and apprehension buzz in her chest. She's growing part of him inside her, something made by their love. The thought is still as scary as it felt yesterday, but it's _glorious_ too.

Tonks kisses his forehead lightly, steps out of his arms, unclips the buckle on her Auror robes and tosses them into the armchair. She sits down on the settee and gestures for Remus to follow. He looks puzzled, like he did all last night- Tonks knew that he was bemused at her yesterday, but she had to have some time to think it all through first. Besides, even if she'd wanted to, she should hardly tell him in front of Kingsley and Dedalus.

"Yes?" he prompts, his cold fingers on her wrist. Tonks peels off her gloves and links her fingers with Remus'. She's planned what to say but it probably won't come out right, and all she wants to do is cwtch up him, so she can be surrounded by his warmth and his smell and his wonderfulness forever.

"I love you," she tells him slowly, reciting the words she's been planning all afternoon. But he's looking at her with such concern in his gorgeous eyes that she can't help but go off-script, "I love you to death. Sometimes it's still kind of overwhelming,"

For Merlin's sake, now she's starting to cry. It's true- a year and a half since she started having feelings for him, the intensity of emotion still stuns her at times. The depth of her love for him is bewildering and exhausting and painful, the experience has been bruising and humbling.

He's gripping her hand tighter, and Tonks squeezes back, trying to remember the rest of what she planned to say, "I know the last few weeks haven't been plain sailing, but I need you to know how happy our life together makes me. And I honestly think that you and me together, we can do anything,"

She means it. She can climb any mountain so long as he's holding her hand. It isn't the best time, and they've only been married a couple of weeks, and Dumbledore and Mad-Eye are dead and they're all in danger. But they can have this baby. They can do it. What's all the fighting for if it isn't to make their world safer for the future? This will be _their_ baby and they will love it and keep it safe forever.

Remus' expression has passed concern and accelerated to fear. "Dora, what is it?"

She takes her other hand and looks up into his beautiful face. "I'm pregnant".

* * *

There is no simile to describe what the moment is like. It doesn't feel like falling off a cliff or a bucket of cold water. It feels still. Everything has stopped. Pregnant. Pregnant. She's pregnant.

The word rattles round in Remus' head for a hundred years, boxing his ears and throbbing in his temple.

Pregnant.

Tonks is pregnant. She's going to have a baby. His baby. No. Not this. Anything but this.

"Remus?" she says, her voice many miles away.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry,"

And then he looks at her, beautiful and apprehensive and holding tightly onto his hand.

She's pregnant.

He wants to tell her that he loves her and that he'd never do anything to hurt her. But it's too late for that- he _has_ hurt her, irretrievably. He wants to get on his knees and wrap his arms round her waist, bury his face in her stomach and beg her to forgive him. But he shouldn't- he shouldn't touch her. He should _never_ have touched her. See what his thoughtlessness and lust have done?

She's pregnant.

Tonks puts a consoling hand on his shoulder. "Don't be sorry. I know it's a shock but it's _fantastic._ We're going to have a baby, can you believe it? We'll be a family and- oh, come here,"

She wraps her other arm around his neck and hugs him close. Remus jolts at the contact. She doesn't understand, he realises. She doesn't know about werewolf children. She doesn't understand what he's done to her. What a dreadful cruelty he has inflicted upon the woman he vowed at their wedding to honour and cherish forever.

Remus pushes her away, holds her at arm's length and looks into her still-watery eyes. He's about to break her heart yet again.

"Listen," he says, and forces the words out as factually as he can. No time for getting emotional now, "The child will be a werewolf,"

The affliction will pass on from him. Years of being afraid that his own violence and savagery would lead to him biting someone and passing on his condition. He should have known that love was to be feared more the wolf's brutality. Love has done this or, at least, what he _thought_ was an act of love. Remus grimaces as he admits to himself that touching and kissing her that way, holding her close and moving against her, had not turned out to be love. It had turned out to be violent and contaminating. He'd known that last year- he put off sleeping with her for weeks out of anguish and shame about what he'd be doing to her. He's been an idiot these last few weeks since Dumbledore died. Taken advantage of her love by using it to bury his own grief. Forgot what he is. The curse and savagery and lust of the beast, and the self-delusion which only a human could be capable of, have done this. _He_ has done this.

Tonks nods, digesting the information. Then she says, "Alright,"

Remus almost grabs her. "It's not alright. It's dangerous. We won't be able to keep living here. You'll definitely have to leave your job now,"

He's mentioned this before- the Ministry was cracking down on the beasts and being married to one could be illegal in a few months' time. It was only a loophole which made their marriage legal in the first place. If anybody finds out she's pregnant it's going to scrape away the crumb of security they have.

"Not yet. Anything could happen in the next few months," Dora points out, then begs, "Please don't agonise about this now. I know it won't be easy, but we'll find a way,"

What way? There's no way out from this, no way that the two of them and a werewolf pup will be able to duck under the Ministry's radar.

"You love your job," Remus tells her, "You've worked hard for it. Mad-Eye wouldn't want-"

He sees the anger flare in her face. "Don't you _dare_ tell me what Mad-Eye wouldn't want-"

"Mad-Eye wouldn't want you giving up your whole life to have a werewolf baby!" Remus shouts. He wouldn't. Who would? Anybody who has ever cared for her knows that this will destroy her life.

She stares at him, looking almost childlike. Painfully so.

"I've ruined everything for you," he mumbles.

"Never,"

"It's going to be a werewolf, I'm sure of it,"

"You're sure? You mean you don't actually _know?"_ Dora interrogates.

"I know,"

"How?

"I know,"

"Wow, what a convincing argument. Do you know anybody this has happened to? Anyone whose been born a werewolf?"

"No,"

"So it might not be, then?"

"It will be,"

"You don't know that,"

"Yes, I do,"

"Because you're paranoid and scared and determined to think of the worst outcome. You don't actually have any evidence," Tonks points out, in the tone she uses when she's convinced that she's right. But she is incredibly wrong.

"What about you- are you sure you're pregnant? Are you a hundred per cent sure?" Remus asks, groping in the dark for a way out of this catastrophe, "I thought we were being careful. You said you were taking the potion,"

"I am _now_ , but I wasn't at first. In case you don't remember, Dumbledore had just died so I didn't really have time to pop to the apothecary. I told you that, remember? You said you'd do the charm on yourself,"

Remus balks. "I did. I've done it every time, I swear," he promises. This is _his_ fault? His carelessness has done this, as well as his lust? What an idiot. What a bastard.

"I know you have, but you must have done it wrong," Dora says, her tone infuriatingly patient as she strokes the spot where his shirt cuff meets his wrist.

"Do you know when?" Remus demands. When did this happen? When was the exact moment he made this fatal mistake? It can barely have been a fortnight ago- she's got enough time to get hold of a Termination Libation, he realises. They can make this go away. Then he'll go away and let her forget this ever happened, he'll give her up if it means that he never has to feel this horror for her ever again.

"No," Dora answers, jolting Remus out of his thoughts.

"Haven't you tried to work it out?" he shoots back. Three weeks ago at most. They have time to solve this.

"I dunno, two weeks or something. I took a Diagnotion Potion. I suppose I could go to a Healer to know for certain," Tonks suggests.

"No, don't do that," he says hurriedly, "Don't tell anybody else. You haven't told anyone, have you?"

"Of course not,"

Something else occurs to Remus and he can't help but snap, "Did you know about this? The night we moved Harry, did you know?"

She isn't like him. He mulls over what the right or wrong choices are, weighs up his options and then decides what to do. Often he gets it wrong, like when he didn't tell Dumbledore about Sirius' Animagus abilities or his knowledge of the passageways into Hogwarts. When he didn't say all the things he thought he should have said to Padfoot. When he married her. Dora is more rash- she acts now and considers it later, especially when it comes to things she cares about. Remus loves that about her, but undertaking Harry's movement plan when she was pregnant was reckless.

"I only found out yesterday, but I didn't tell you because I needed to get my head around it first," Tonks insists.

* * *

"And your head's around it now?" Remus demands. He's taking it even worse than Tonks anticipated. She expected shock, bemusement, panic and guilt. She didn't expect all of the above to be coming out as anger, and the fact that it is hurts. What hurts even more is that there's no hint of anything under the guilt, panic, bemusement and shock. No trace of pride or delight. She could almost say he's horrified.

"I think so. D'you reckon I'm not scared? I'm bloody terrified," she admits, hoping that this confession will help to get him onside, "But I _know_ that we can do this together. I meant it- you and me can do anything,"

"That's not true. We can't bring a werewolf baby into the world. We're both in the Order, and Bellatrix Lestrange wants you dead because of me. Imagine what she'd do if she knew we were having a baby," Remus pleads.

"I was hoping the shock would kill her,"

"That's not funny," he responds sharply.

Tonks is losing patience. She gets that he wasn't expecting this. She gets that he's concerned. She doesn't get all this irrational werewolf talk, and the fact that he's acting like he's put a knife in her stomach instead of a baby.

"What do you want me to say? I've told you I'm pregnant and all you can do is get angry and tell me it's going to ruin my life. Merlin's beard, when are you going to get it? I want this, I want you and I want your baby, even if it _is_ a werewolf," she snaps.

"You don't understand," Remus croaks. He's looking at his feet, ashamed. She _hates_ it when he gets like this.

"Yeah, I just married a werewolf for a laugh, he hasn't given me ten thousand lectures about how hard it's going to be," she growls.

"We've barely told anybody we're married because of how the Ministry is- imagine how long we can keep that up if we had a child? We'll be outcasts,"

"We'll have our friends,"

"Friends tend to disappear when your child is a werewolf. Believe me,"

"You really think that of Molly? Or Kingsley? Hestia? Hagrid, for God's sake, he's a half-giant!"

Remus' shoes are still of great interest to him. He clasps his hands together, as if praying, and mumbles, "My mother died before she was sixty. She was ill long before that, worn out by the effort and the lies," he looks into her eyes, so earnest, so afraid, "I don't want that for you,"

The situation is different this time. If the child's a werewolf, at least Remus knows what they'll be dealing with. He can help, and their friends will help too. He's right that the law isn't on their side, but plenty of people _are._ They'll work something out.

"It won't have to be," Tonks promises, slipping her hand into his.

Remus squeezes back, so hard that his grasp is painful. His tone is difficult to determine as he replies in a quiet voice, "You have no idea how much people will hate you,"

Tonks tries to pretend not to be stung by that, but it hurts. She never expected him to say something like that to her.

"Will you?" she asks.

"What?"

"Will you hate me if our baby's a werewolf?"

"Don't be ridiculous," says Remus.

Sometimes he can be so bloody contrary. "Answer the question,"

"You know I could never hate you," he says, and rubs a hand wearily over his face, "This is my fault,"

"Well, that's all that matters. I'll have you and our kid and our friends, I don't care about what anybody else thinks. We've had this conversation a hundred times,"

They rode this roundabout repeatedly about getting married. And that's been fine so far- okay, she's kept it under wraps at work, but everybody in the Order was chuffed for them, and even Mum's coming round to Remus. Why isn't he going to get that she will never care what anybody thinks about him, or them? Anyone who knows him knows that he isn't savage or feral or any of the bullshit stereotypes people have about werewolves.

"It's different when there's a child involved," Remus insists.

"You don't want it, do you?" Tonks murmurs. Her heart feels like it has wilted inside her.

"It's not a question of want. It's a question of what's right and what's safe,"

He's using his Professor tone, the one which, depending on context, either makes her giggle or makes her want to strangle him. Right now it's certainly the latter. Why does he always have to find the negative in every situation? _Everything_ has to come back to him being a werewolf, but he isn't just a werewolf. He's her brave, funny, gentle, intelligent, gorgeous husband. He's going to be their child's Daddy. The image of him holding their baby pops into her head and she smiles.

"You and me is very right and very safe," says Tonks, playing with his fingers to way he likes, "I know you feel safe with me,"

He says that out loud sometimes, and he tells her things he doesn't tell anybody else, and they take care of each other and protect one another. They're equals, and their relationship is total safety and trust and love. How can bringing a baby into that be dangerous?

"You're not safe with me, and a baby won't be either,"

They're going round in circles. _As usual_ , Tonks groans in her head. "You need some time to think about it," she decides, "I was the same yesterday, I was scared, but now it's sunk in I couldn't be more chuffed, even if I'm still nervous about it. You need a day or two to get used to the idea,"

She claps a hand to his shoulder and hopes that he understands the part-comfort, part- _please-get-a-grip_ gesture.

"I know it's going to be like me," Remus mumbles.

It takes every ounce of Tonks' strength not to roll her eyes. She forces herself to beam at him, to intentionally misunderstand, and to say elatedly, "I hope so. Wouldn't that be wonderful?".


	25. Of Wales

**I enjoy thinking about the events in Harry Potter in relation to real-world events, and as an African-Brit I'm genetically programmed to be overly-interested in the royal family. This chapter is set in Oct/Nov of _Order of the Phoenix_ , and here's your warning for language. **

Of Wales

Sirius flipped the page in the newspaper, and the headline blared up at him. _CHARLES AND DI SEEING LAWYERS!_ His eyes flicked down to the article: _The Prince of Wales and his estranged wife are both thought to be consulting with divorce lawyers, a source close to the palace-_

Sirius almost spat out his wine.

"They're getting a divorce?!" he yelped, jumping in his seat so that Tonks, who'd been leaning against his shoulder, toppled over into his lap.

"Who?" she huffed, pushing herself up.

"Diana!" said Sirius, holding up the newspaper and jamming his finger at the headline. There was always usually a _Daily Prophet_ knocking around Number 12 Grimmauld Place, although last week Hestia suggested that Sirius might want to start reading the Muggle newspapers, just for something to do. The various Order members who traipsed in and out of his house had started bringing along _Guardians, Telegraphs_ and _Daily Mails_ for the last few days. Hestia had turned out to be right- Muggle newspapers were a welcome break from the guff in the _Daily Prophet,_ even if Sirius didn't have a clue who most of the people mentioned in the British press were. Princess Diana though- well, _everybody_ had heard of her.

"It's just a crappy tabloid, I wouldn't take it as gospel," Tonks shrugged, "But they've been split up for ages, so it'll happen sooner or later. Didn't you know?"

"You've never been on the run, have you?" Sirius deadpanned.

"Not from Azkaban for two years,"

"Well when you are _,_ you'll learn that the only reason to look at Muggle newspapers is for the date. And the weather," Sirius explained, then added after a pause, "And the Horoscopes, to see how badly the Muggles have it wrong,"

"Mum told me you never took Divination," Tonks reminded him. That irked Sirius slightly, although he couldn't have explained why.

"I didn't say we have it right either. Anyway, what's happening this this divorce thing?"

"It's pretty ugly, to be honest, they'd both been having affairs," Tonks elaborated, tapping the photo of the Prince and Princess and their two children.

"Arthur Weasley's clearly the father of the youngest one," Sirius joked, examining the photo more closely.

"Harry,"

He turned to her sharply. "What about him?"

"No, not _our_ Harry. Prince Harry. That's his name, you moron,"

"Oh. Our Harry was a baby when they got married," Sirius remembered, "The only Summer I had with him. I didn't have a clue who any of these royal people were - had to get Lily to explain it to me, even though she didn't want to watch it,"

Lily had been funny like that, Sirius remembered. She was always telling him and James which actors and singers and famous people were cool, which were too posh or too annoying or too Northern, which ones were boring in interviews, which ones she fancied, which she could tell were gay even if they hadn't admitted it. Sometimes Sirius enjoyed listening to her tittle-tattle, and sometimes he enjoyed rolling his eyes with James about it.

"Why not? We had a party in our street, I ate too much cake and threw up," Tonks grinned.

"She thought they were all snobs," Sirius murmured, smiling as he thought of Lily.

"Like our family," Tonks pointed out. That jarred Sirius, and he glanced at her sharply. Tonks sometimes referred to the Blacks as "our" or "us", even though she was never really one of them. Andromeda's influence, Sirius supposed- Andy may have been the first to run, but she was always less disdainful about their family than he was. More hopeful, perhaps. Andromeda had loved her parents and sisters more than Sirius could ever love Mother, Father and Regulus. In prison, Sirius had sometimes thought about taunting her about that- _see what Bella's done_ now, _Andromeda. Bella, who you always told me was not so bad. Bella, who you used to cry about not seeing again and insisted that you'd meet again if she ever agreed. Bella, who you still loved. Fucked up a pair of Aurors so bad they'll never leave hospital. How d'you feel about_ that _, Andy? You utter idiot._

Although in the months since Tonks had come back into his life, Sirius found he sort of liked her saying, "our family". She didn't truly understand what it was like to be a Black, but "our" suggested that she _might_. And that was something.

Sirius kissed her forehead fondly and said, "Exactly, it's just the Muggle version of purebloods and the scared bloody twenty-eight,"

"Yeah, everyone knows that," she scoffed.

"I liked you better when you thought I knew everything," he said, rolling his eyes.

"I have never once thought that you know everything,"

"You did. Back in those days with the wedding and everything, when you were little,"

"I think recent developments," Tonks pointed out, tapping the newspaper, "Have proved that times have changed,"

"Still happened," he teased her.

"Shut up,"

Sirius jabbed her in the ribs, smirked to himself and turned back to the newspaper. _The Prince of Wales and his estranged wife are both thought to be consulting with divorce lawyers, a source close to the palace claims. Charles, 47, was recently seen outside Hatchett & Webb solicitors in Mayfair, while the Princess of Wales is believed to have been in contact with Durban-Ostley Family Law, based close to Kensington Palace. Diana, 34, who was most recently seen attending a gala event in Milan, recently denied claims about plans to divorce the Prince. A palace spokesperson was unavailable for comment. _

"She's thirty-four and he's forty-seven?" Sirius frowned, "I didn't know that,"

Tonks' head whipped round to look at him. "Doesn't matter, does it?" she asked.

"Well, no wonder they're getting divorced,"

"What's that s'posed to mean?"

She sounded mildly insulted, which was odd. Sirius elaborated: "He's miles older. She's only a bit younger than me, and she was about nineteen when they got married. Maybe we should have known then that it was going to go up in smoke,"

"It's gone up in smoke because they both had affairs, not because he's older," said Tonks defensively.

"There's as much of an age gap between him and her and there is between you and me," Sirius pointed out, "Bit pervy when you look at it like that,"

Tonks folded her arms tightly and said nothing. Sirius wasn't sure what exactly he'd done to annoy her, which reminded him of Andy again. It had often been that way with her. Dumbledore had told Sirius that perhaps Andromeda could come over to visit him soon, although the headmaster had been cagey on the subject in recent weeks. Sirius knew he should have gone better than to get his hopes up- most of his life had been disappointments- but having Tonks around made him think of Andy all the more, especially as Tonks had those little mannerisms and idiosyncrasies which were like her mother's.

"If you're looking for an older bloke I believe there's a very rich one now on the market," Sirius continued, gesturing the newspaper.

"I don't need a rich bloke," said Tonks in the same defensive tone.

That was a very Andromeda comment too, and Sirius felt more irked that Andy wasn't here. "Sorry, forgot some of us are on Auror salaries," he drawled rather bitterly.

Tonks half-smirked and said in a dry tone, "It isn't as much as you think,"

"More than the zero knuts I've had coming in for fourteen years,"

"But you got Uncle Alphard's money and Mum didn't,"

Sirius laughed, although irritation outweighed amusement, "She still hasn't let that go? I'm a closer relative to him,"

"It was because you're a boy. Don't pretend it isn't,"

That was the most Andromeda thing Sirius had ever heard in his life.

"Though you just said you weren't bothered about money," he protested.

"I said I wasn't bothered about a rich bloke,"

"What about that Healer you were seeing over the Summer? Godric or Godfrey or something?" Sirius asked. She'd been so _obvious_ about it; she'd come into Sirius' house wearing a man's jacket, smelling of men's deodorant and with bite marks on her neck. Mundungus had once suggested to Sirius that he should feel annoyed about that, but Sirius didn't feel particularly protective over Tonks. The truth was, he felt jealous. Sometimes those prison years seemed endless, but other times Sirius looked at them like a pause button and he was still only twenty-two, same age as Tonks. Why wasn't he out getting into scrapes and having relationships and enjoying himself, like she was?

"Geoffrey," Tonks corrected.

"I preferred Godric,"

"We split up," she told him.

"Yes, I worked out as much," Sirius shrugged, "How come?"

Tonks sighed. "He was working night shifts and I'm busy with the Order. Neither of us were massively into each other and it just wasn't really working out," she said, and yawned. Sirius almost laughed at her disinterest, then wondered if she was faking it and _had_ actually been upset about breaking up with this bloke.

"So you're looking for someone else," he suggested experimentally.

"What's it to you if I am?"

She sounded defensive again, and Sirius wasn't sure if that confirmed that Tonks _was_ interested in someone, or that she wasn't because she was still upset about this Geoffrey.

"Well, are you?" he prompted.

"I told you, I'm busy with Order stuff. I don't have time for much else,"

"I'm busy with Order stuff and I have more free time than anybody could possibly want," Sirius sighed.

Tonks ran her fingers down his sleeve and said softly, "I know,"

That was another Andromeda expression. She'd said it to Sirius when they were kids and he'd deluge her with how pathetic his father was, how Mother treated him like a criminal, how Regulus was an nitwit and a suck-up and a tittle-tattle. _I know, Sirius, but just_ try _with them, alright? I know, Sirius, but look at it from their point of view. I know, Sirius, but it's difficult for me to do anything now I'm away at school._ Andy been the first of the two of them to go to school and the first to run away from home. Sirius had followed, but the freedom he'd waited so long for had been short-lived. On top of everything she, Tonks was a reminder of the life Andy had had- the life Sirius thought that he would have. The life that had Wormtail and Voldemort had stolen.

"You don't," he snarled darkly, "You don't have a clue what it's like,"

"Fine, I don't. I also don't hang out here for you to snap at me," she said waspishly.

Sirius folded his arms. "Alright- leave. I don't care,"

"What have I done to piss you off?" Tonks demanded. Sirius curled his lip to avoid answering. What was he supposed to tell her, anyway? That what she'd done to piss him off was belong to Andromeda, be too much like Andromeda, not to Andromeda, to be a reminder that Andromeda had had the life that Sirius hadn't, to be _actually living_ the life that Sirius should be living now. He couldn't say any of that out loud.

"Well? Do you want me to stay or not?" Tonks challenged.

Sirius looked at her, then looked at the floor. Then he looked over at the lacy curtains. Mother had bought them in France when Sirius was small. They'd looked revolting when new, and were now peppered with moth-holes, stains and cobwebs. They were drawn over the window, blocking him from the outside world.

"Yes," Sirius mumbled, and tried to ignore the sting he felt in knowing that his loneliness outweighed his pride.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading. My laptop helpfully decided to delete a version of the next chapter- I'm rewriting it, but it might be a bit of a wait. Apologies for that, and in the meantime feel free to take a gander at any of my other stories. Thank you.**


	26. Birthday Boy

**This chapter is set on Lupin's last birthday, 10** **th** **March 1998. I really liked this one when I first wrote it, but now I'm not sure it's turned out how I wanted it to. Let me know what you think.**

Birthday Boy

She slept better now that her father was dead. In the months when Dad was on the run, Tonks had tossed and turned all night, worrying. Mum would do the same in bed beside her and they'd lie in the dark, sometimes in silence, sometimes whispering words of fear and comfort to each other. It didn't help that Spudge grew and got fidgety over the Winter, and would hammer its feet and fists against Tonks' stomach from the inside. The kid was still at it now, but Tonks was sleeping better than she had in weeks. Wherever Dad was now, he wasn't being chased and hunted. He wasn't hurt.

The first thought she woke that morning was that it was Remus' birthday. He hadn't wanted a fuss because he never did, but she was determined to spoil him at least a little. She'd even persuaded Mum to buy him a present. Tonks rubbed her eyes and slid out of bed, trying not to knock into her mother- this took longer and was more difficult these days because use was so flipping huge- and crept past the past the bedside table, the wardrobe, and the photographs smiling at her from the wall. She opened the door and stepped into the corridor. Her old bedroom was at the end, just left of the boiler room. She creaked open the bedroom door and snuck inside. The walls were a brown-y beige this morning. Remus was asleep on his side with his face burrowed into the pillow. Tonks loved watching him sleep. He was so different. Awake Remus was controlled, still and always put other people first despite any discomfort to himself. Asleep Remus was soft, wriggly and groaned if you took too much duvet. She missed that.

Taking care not to yank it off him, Tonks lifted up the blanket, slipped underneath it and snuggled up next to her husband. She ran a finger down Remus' face, feeling the beads of stubble on the surface (she often thought he'd look good with a beard, but the one time she'd brought it up he'd replied stiffly that he didn't like having hair of his face. Tonks hadn't mentioned it again), then up into his hair.

* * *

Something was brushing against Remus' fringe. His eyes flickered open, to see his wife smiling sleepily while she ran her fingers through his curls.

"Morning, birthday boy,"

Ah, yes. His birthday. This was the first one they'd been together for, and no doubt Dora had cooked up some daft surprise which he'd pretend not be embarrassed by.

"Hello," he muttered.

She shuffled closer into his arms and whispered, "Happy birthday," before kissing his lips gently, and then again, and a third time more lingeringly. He didn't usually have this time with her, because Tonks had been sleeping in bed with her mother since Ted left. She and Remus only went back to her flat on the nights around the full moon- and on those mornings canoodling in bed wasn't on the cards. Ironic, then, that not sharing a bed with his wife much anymore had coincided with Remus finding her more attractive than ever. Since the bump started showing in December she'd looked so beautiful; ripe and healthy and swollen with their child. Remus wanted to touch her all the time, which was difficult because her breasts were sore and her stomach was heavy and she'd gone off sex. For ages Dora was frustrated but patient with him while he felt guilty and acted awkward when it came to intimacy. Now he was more keen and confident, but Tonks wasn't in the mood, or was too tired, or didn't want to be touched. Remus kept dreaming about making love to her, and a few months ago he would have felt disgusted at himself having those dreams and waking up with a hard-on in the bed she slept in when she was a child. Now he just chuckled, shrugged and thanked Merlin that Andromeda wasn't a legilimens.

Well, that was how things had been until a fortnight ago, until they'd got the letter telling them that Ted had been killed. Now their touching was mostly him holding Tonks when she cried, squeezing her hand, murmuring into her hair how sorry he was. They hadn't kissed like this in weeks.

Remus felt her peal her face away from his. "You're thinking about something,"

They agreed months ago, after he went away and came back, to always be honest with each other, but since Ted died it was a balance between honesty and preserving moments of happiness.

"I'm reflecting on the wisdom I've garnered in my thirty-eight years," he said. Thirty-eight. God.

"Any you'd like to share with me?" Dora asked, batting her eyelashes.

"Umm…don't stand too near a chip-pan. Use a Muggle Biro not a Quill when forging signatures. Never trust a man whose name means faeces,"

It occurred to him that he shouldn't have mentioned Mundungus, but Tonks was looking at him with that soft expression he hadn't seen in her eyes since Ted died, and the mention of the man who'd betrayed Mad-Eye didn't seem to have registered.

"What?" Remus smiled.

She ran a hand through his hair again. "My lovely boy," she said, and stamped another kiss on his forehead.

"Spudge says happy birthday, too," she added. It was the most Dora thing to give a nickname to their unborn baby. She'd been calling the child "Spudge" for months while they decided on a name. There was one which, if it was a boy, Remus had been thinking of the past few days, but he didn't know how to bring it up, or if Andromeda would be alright with it, or Dora as well for that matter.

"Thanks, Spudge". Remus always felt vaguely ridiculous using the nickname, but he leant down to kiss her stomach.

"Are you gonna give Daddy a birthday kick?" Tonks asked. Remus rested his head against the swell. No movement.

"I think it's asleep," he decided.

"Typical," Tonks huffed, "It's been jerking around all night and the second you're here it decides to go to sleep". She often claimed that the baby calmed around him. "But if it is," she continued, trailing her lips across his throat and reaching down to fiddle with the knot on his pyjama bottoms, "That gives me time to wake you up properly on your birthday...".

Remus' pulse leapt, but he couldn't help but blurt, "Dora- you don't have to,"

They hadn't been intimate for weeks, since before Ted died. He didn't want her to think she had to do anything for him just because it was his birthday.

"I know," she shrugged. Her fingers crept back up to probe at his abdominals, while her other hand slithered up to one of his nipples and stroked it, very slowly, through his t-shirt.

"Are you sure?" he added

"Oh, come _on_. We've gone months without you dropping the AYS-bomb," she groaned, laughing. For ages it was his favourite question, not just about sex but going to dinner, holding hands, telling anybody about the fact that they were seeing each other. She threatened a few times to get him an Are You Sure swear jar. Every time she'd look him in the eye and tell him that she was, and she did the same now.

"Yeah, I'm sure,"

"Well," he mumbled, and she was kissing his chest and running the back of her hand over his stomach, gently, just the way he liked, "If you really insist...".

* * *

Andromeda sat bolt upright. The bed beside her was empty. Nymphadora must be up, which was unusual as she normally slept late these days. Andromeda remembered that; the frustrating sluggishness of pregnancy. When Nymphadora _had_ got up in the morning Andromeda could usually hear here crashing around, so the quiet set her on edge immediately. Where was she? What had happened? Andromeda grabbed her wand. What if something had happened to the baby and Nymphadora had to rush to hospital? What if Snatchers were here, come for the wife now they'd killed her husband? Had the Ministry come to take the werewolf away? Remus- oh God, it was his birthday, Andromeda remembered. Nymphadora had been chattering about it for days. Dromeda forced herself to breathe. Nymphadora would have gone nextdoor to see him- yes, that'd be it. Andromeda slid out of bed, gripping her wand tightly, walked past the bedside table, the wardrobe and the photographs smiling at her from the wall. She opened the door and stepped into the corridor towards Nymphadora's room. Sometimes the thought of a werewolf in her little girl's bed made Dromeda's skin crawl. She'd got to know Remus Lupin well over the last few months, and Nymphadora was right all along that he wasn't what is affliction suggested. He was polite, patient and reserved. Andromeda didn't think she'd once heard him raise his voice. He was articulate, well-read and sometimes unexpectedly funny. He danced with Andromeda beside the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve, and he was more interested in her job than Nymphadora had ever been. When they received the news about Ted, he gripped Dromeda tightly while she howled into his shoulder. Then he put the kettle on and set about writing letters to everybody who needed to know. When Andromeda looked back on it, his authority and calmness were astonishing. She couldn't admit to anyone that in spite of all of this, sometimes she shuddered to think about what he turned into and what others like him had done.

Andromeda reached the bedroom door. She could hear Remus talking and- thank Merlin- Nymphadora replied. Andromeda gasped out a deep sigh of relief. She couldn't tell what her daughter was saying, but it was definitely her voice, and she didn't sound panicked or scared. Remus said something back in his hoarse Welsh lilt. They were safe, both of them and the baby. Nymphadora was nearly eight months gone now. Dromeda had been looking forward to her grandchild being born, although since Ted died grief and paranoia had strangled excitement. Andromeda squeezed her eyes shut and leant back against the wall.

* * *

Her mouth was warm and wet and welcome. He came quickly and hard, gasping louder than usual, drawing out her name for a few long, pleasurable seconds. For a moment after, everything was still and quiet, and then Dora was kissing back up to his hips. His hand was fisted in her hair and his breath was ragged. She'd always been good at this.

When Tonks' face appeared at his shoulder, she wiped her mouth on her pyjama sleeve, winked, pecked his jaw, then turned around so that he could spoon up against her. They always used to sleep the other way around; his back against her front, her arms clasped around his shoulders. Now it was _him_ who held _her_ , and yes it was because that was the easiest position now she was so big, but he liked to think that it represented something else about much better a partner he'd become. How he understood now that protecting her and the child meant keeping them close, not pushing her away. Perhaps it showed that he didn't need her to protect him from himself any longer.

* * *

Remus nuzzled his face into Tonks' neck and stretched an arm round to stroke her stomach. She closed her eyes, enjoying the pressure of her baby on one side and her husband on the other. Remus was still getting his breath back, and it was good to know that she had that effect on him, that they could still do this. Although that wasn't hugely surprising, since nowadays she could sometimes feel him watching her with un-Remus-ly blatant lust. Merlin knew why, now she was the size of a boat and went through about four different moods per second. Although Tonks wasn't sure if that was pregnancy or grief. So much of the last few months had been frightening or exciting, but now she felt so calm.

"Can we stay like this all day?" she murmured, running her fingers down his arm.

"Don't ask me, it's you two who fidget,"

"Spudge fidgets. I'm just on the receiving end of it,"

Instead of replying Remus dolloped a long, wet kiss to the back of her neck, then another, then burrowed his face into Tonks' hair. He was quiet for a few minutes and she thought he was drifting back to sleep, until he said unexpectedly, "Tonks?"

"Mmm?"

"I've been thinking,"

"Mmm?"

"Can Harry be godfather?"

Oh. That was left of field. Tonks hadn't given any consideration to the subject, especially not given the last couple of weeks. She didn't know what to say. She turned over to face him, which took about five times as long as it should have done. Remus chuckled and wriggled backwards to give the bump room, and when she'd turned round he stroked it idly with his fingertips.

"I think it'd mean a lot to him. It'd mean a lot to me," he explained, slightly sheepishly.

"Um, alright,"

"Did you have anybody else in mind?" he asked. Tonks got the sense that he was preparing to back-pedal if he needed to.

"Hadn't really thought about it,"

"I don't know when we're going to see him again, but I know we _will_ and I want to give him some good news. He'd be a good godfather, don't you reckon? And," Remus continued, eyes flicking around the room again before meeting hers, "I owe him a thank-you for making me come home".

Tonks wanted to tell him that he didn't owe anybody anything. And that it had been his own decision to come home, nobody else's. Remus' choice, Remus' baby. And, she supposed, Remus' choice about the baby's godfather.

"Okay, then. Harry Potter for godfather," she agreed, and grinned at him. It sounded nice. And he was right that it would be nice for Harry, and more importantly for their child. Harry was brave and wise and perhaps he would lend their baby his Firebolt when it was older?

Remus did that wobbly smile he always did when he felt touched about something. He rolled onto his back, took her hand and squeezed it.

"Do you know," said Tonks, watching him, "I reckon that's the quickest it's ever taken for you and me to agree on something, ever."

* * *

She should have gone back to bed the second she realised what was going on in there. There were certain things that a mother-in-law should not hear. But instead of going back to bed Andromeda had frozen, trying not to listen but within earshot, feeling hatred for her daughter swell inside herself. And now the pair of them were back to talking and giggling, and that only made Dromeda's loathing grow. Because Nymphadora had her husband lying warm beside her, and Andromeda's husband was cold in the ground. _On_ the ground probably- Snatchers were unlikely to bury their victims. He probably didn't even look like Ted anymore. He'd be filthy, muddy, bloody, rotting. His face would barely be recognisable. Andromeda had never been afraid of facing the truth so she didn't push those thoughts away. Better to accept the facts than to shove them to the back of their mind, where they'd only re-appear in her nightmares. Better to not to deny the corrosive hatred she was feeling towards her own child. Andromeda wanted to hammer on the door and scream at them. Screech at Nymphadora for being so happy. She wanted to rage at Ted for leaving her. Most of all, she wanted to rant and spit and kick and burn the people who killed him, the Dark Lord and Bella and everybody else in their side, every damn person Mother and Father had invited round when she was a child who flippantly believed in purebood supremacy, every person who talked about "Mudbloods" or "blood traitors" or "purity". Because every single one of those people were the reason Andromeda was standing in an empty corridor on a cold Spring morning, hating her daughter and the child growing inside her.

But Andromeda Tonks did not scream. She walked back towards her bedroom, shut the door behind her, sat down on the bed, and cried.


	27. JustBlackThings

**I wasn't planning on writing a follow-up to Ch5 _#JustWerewolfThings_ , but I got the idea for this and it wouldn't let me go (said idea was partly inspired by the fabulous story _Metamorphmagus_ by Lirazel. I highly recommend it). This chapter is quite dark and contains ideas and characterisations I suspect may be controversial. Warnings for that sort of thing, plus language and torture. I hope you enjoy.**

 _"If they try to burn you, may your fire be stronger than theirs so you can burn the whole fucking house down,"_

\- Morgan Lloyd Malcolm, _Emilia_

#JustBlackThings

 **July 1**

He waited in the living room for her to arrive home. Being alone in Tonks' flat was strange. She insisted that it was _their_ flat now, but Remus hadn't had time to bring any of his stuff over, save for his toothbrush and a couple of changes of clothes. It still felt like her home, her world. He liked being in her world.

There was a clang and a whizzing noise, and then she was spinning into the fireplace. Remus leapt out of the armchair.

"Hello," he said eagerly, "Code number 7037. You?"

Tonks materialised fully, grabbed the sides of the fireplace to stop herself falling over, and said, "Wotcher. 9413. Crikey, are you a sight for sore eyes,"

She climbed out of the fireplace and into his arms, and Remus leaned down to kiss her hello. After a year apart, kissing her again made him almost dizzy. He wouldn't ever get tired of kissing her. Remus felt her sigh, and then she pulled away and laid her face against his chest. He liked it when she did that. He liked being able to hold her and look down at her and press his lips to the top of her head.

"Are you alright?" Remus asked quietly. There was the bigger question to ask to, but he thought he'd save it until she'd had a minute to relax.

"Yeah, just...knackered," Tonks mumbled into his shirt. She was still wearing her Auror robes over torn jeans and a white t-shirt. Remus liked seeing her in her uniform robes- she looked official and impressive. He moved his hand round from her back to her jaw and titled her face up to kiss her again, softly.

"I put the kettle on for you," he murmured against her mouth.

"Mmm, you're perfect. Could do with something a bit stronger though,"

Remus stamped a final kiss on her cheek, then let her go and followed her into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and rummaged inside, reappearing a moment later with a lime green can.

"Do you fancy one?" she offered. It was one of the revolting tinned cocktails she liked.

"No, thank you,"

"Haven't had time to bloody shop, I haven't got any beer for you,"

"It's fine, we've been busy,"

The last four days had been a whirlwind even without getting engaged, moving in and trying to organise a wedding. Remus had been busy with Order stuff, while Tonks had been doing ten-hour days at the Ministry. It turned out that when Albus Dumbledore died there was a lot of paperwork to complete.

She cracked open the can and took a swig. Then she unclipped the front of her Auror robes, shrugged them off and tossed them onto the kitchen table. The robe hem dropped onto the floor and he bundled it back onto the table. Tonks rolled her eyes.

"Hey, come here," she muttered, jumping up to sit on the kitchen counter. Remus stepped over to her and she pulled him closer, wrapped her legs around his hips and draped her arms around his shoulders.

"I don't care if nobody understands," she murmured, "This is all I need. Just this,"

She was giving him permission to ask. Remus pecked her forehead and wondered how to phrase the question. After considering _I assume it went badly, then?_ and _How scared should I be?_ he played it safe with, "How did it go?"

"Doesn't matter," Tonks mumbled.

"Dora,"

She sighed and looked up at him. "Dad was okay. Shocked, but okay. He wants to meet you and come to the wedding and stuff,"

"That's kind of him," Remus pointed out.

"It's bare minimum," she countered.

"It's complicated. What about your mum?"

Tonks met his eyes, then looked away, put her can down, then took his hand and squeezed it between both of her own. "She threw a fit,"

Remus had expected that, but he still felt an unpleasant dropping sensation in his stomach.

"She doesn't understand," Tonks continued through gritted teeth, "She thinks she knows you but she doesn't know you, so it doesn't matter what she says. I don't need her permission. I don't need her there,"

"Did you tell her that?" he asked. He felt cold. He knew this would happen- Andromeda would shocked and sickened, she'd say Tonks was either stupid, mad or had been manipulated into the marriage. Since Andromeda knew her daughter wasn't stupid or crazy, she's assume manipulation. She'd assume Remus was conniving and controlling. She probably thought that he was feral, that he drank too much, he didn't wash. That he was selfish and untrustworthy. He was violent. He'd bite her to turn her into a monster too. It was a difficult assessment to argue with, since it was true for the werewolves Remus had spent almost a year living amongst.

"Of course I did. I told her if she said anything else about you I'd walk out and never come back,"

His stomach dropped further. "Dora, you didn't,"

"Yeah, I did and I meant it," she re-iterated.

"I don't want to antagonise your family. I want to-"

"-and she _knows_ I meant it because it's what she did Dad. She thinks she's different to the rest of them but if she believes that crap about you then she's just as prejudiced as her sisters," Tonks growled.

"There's a different between marrying a Muggle-born and marrying a werewolf," Remus pointed out. Even these days, the two were barely comparable.

"There's not a difference in meeting a really, _really_ special guy and knowing what you have with him is more important than some stupid prejudice your parents have. She knows exactly what that's like,"

She called him special a lot. Remus never knew how to respond, because as far as he was concerned he was boring, and the one thing which made him different didn't mean he was special- it meant he was dirty and dangerous.

Dora was squeezing his hand even tighter now, so hard that it hurt. He'd forgotten, while he'd been away, how intense she could be.

"At least you've got telling them over with," he said wearily, groping for something positive to say.

"We're still going over for tea tomorrow evening," Tonks added, "Sorry, I should have lead with that,"

"Good,"

He slipped his hand out from between hers, used it to push her hair behind her ear, and dolloped a kiss to the side of her nose. She still had her legs hooked around his hips. Even when she was being difficult, touching and kissing and being affectionate with her felt soothing and uplifting and that damn word "special". It felt like home. Dora didn't need him telling her off, Remus reminded himself- she needed him to listen to her. The only way they were going to get anywhere with her mother was through compromise, and to be able to compromise with Andromeda he'd have to compromise with Dora, and he could compromise best with her best if he was extra loving and sweet to get her onside.

"Let's chill out on the sofa and I'll tell you the Order news," Remus suggested.

Tonks giggled. "Did you just say 'chill out'?"

He waggled his eyebrows at her. She looked back, half-grin, half-awe. Remus was still bowled over that he was in the receiving end of that look. It was not, he thought gloomily, the sort of look he expected to receive from her mother.

"Then we can go to the shops and buy some food," he added, "Okay?"

"Okay," she whispered (she was really sexy when she whispered). She gave him another kiss, then hopped off the counter, picked up her can and led the way back into the living room. But as she opened the kitchen door again, he heard her mutter under her breath, "I won't see her. And she knows I'll do it because it's exactly what she did before".

* * *

 **July 2**

He still smirked sometimes, remembering Sirius spending half an hour insisting to Professor Mayhewer that California was the capital of Transylvania.

"You know that's not true," James had pointed out that afternoon as they traipsed back up to the common room.

"Of course it is,"

"James is right," Remus corroborated.

"You're both idiots," Sirius declared, "Peter agrees with me, don't you?"

"Umm," murmured Peter.

"See, that's two against two and my vote counts for more 'cos I'm the oldest. California _is_ the capital city of Transylvania.

James and Remus rolled their eyes at each other.

"Your funeral," Remus sighed.

His best friend had always had impenetrable conviction. If Sirius decided he was right, then Sirius was right and woe betide anybody who tried to argue. It was that conviction which kept Padfoot pushing through the Animagi project when the rest of them thought it was too difficult. In hindsight, Remus saw that it was conviction which helped Sirius stay sane when at home with his family. It was certainly conviction which made him run away from them at sixteen. It was conviction in his friendship and fury which made him hunt down Wormtail, conviction of his own innocence which kept him sane through those long years in prison surrounded by Dementors, and conviction in his duties as godfather which made him escape and fight to the death to protect Harry. And it was conviction which had made him insist on coming to the Ministry to rescue his godson. Sirius Black lived and died with conviction.

Remus had seen it in Sirius' mother too- that damn portrait which refused to budge and held her Pureblood convictions even after death. He'd seen the way Sirius' cousin Bellatrix looked at her Lord, too. Her conviction was horrifying.

But worse than Bellatrix's fanaticism or the screeching portrait or Sirius' self-destructive conviction, was Dora standing in front of him, arms folded tightly across her chest, telling him through gritted teeth that she was having their baby, "Money or no money, war or no war, werewolf or no werewolf".

Remus wanted to argue, and he would, but he could tell it was pointless. He knew that conviction, that look in the eye. She was keeping the baby and nothing would change her mind.

Remus reckoned that that was the moment he knew he had to leave.

* * *

 **August**

His first full moon since going away and coming back had hurt less than usual. Ironic, since he was pretty sure he deserved the pain this time. It was over now and he was in sprawled bed, plasters and bandages patched over his limbs, while his wife sat cross-legged on the bed beside him, holding his hand and running her thumb over his knuckles. Remus had let her stay with him in the aftermath, and Tonks had surprised him by being nervy and hesitant about what to do. She usually wanted to mollycoddle him, so her unsureness was unnerving. Perhaps she was unwell too- what if something had happened, something had….changed?

Remus lifted his head off the pillow and looked over at her. "You didn't feel anything, did you?" he croaked.

"What do you mean?"

He swallowed. "Last night. Did it feel like something was changing inside you?"

Tonks' thumb stopped moving on his skin. "No,"

The answer should have given Remus comfort, but it didn't. "Oh," he sighed.

"I _promise_ I'll tell you if I suspect it's a werewolf," Dora told him seriously, "And I promise you, right now I'm sure it isn't,"

Remus sighed again. She was always telling him how kind he was, but it was beyond kind to stay with, hold hands with, nurse and heal a man who had been a monster two hours before, _and_ who had recently tried to leave her and her baby for good. He didn't deserve somebody as generous and understanding as her. At least the baby would be hers as well as his, Remus thought. That'd give it some hope.

"I'll love it whatever happens," Remus promised himself aloud, "I won't run away again. I'll be here if it's a werewolf or a Metamorphmagus or a Squib,"

He was in this for good now. If Dora was wrong, or lying to reassure him (even her lies were kind) and their child _was_ a werewolf, he would protect it and help it. His own parents had managed it, so he and Dora could too. They'd have to, for the child. They'd love it- _he'd_ love it- no matter what.

Tonks gripped his hand tightly. "Remus. Our baby will not be a Squib,"

"I'd take a Squib over a werewolf. At least it'd be healthy,"

He'd take anything over a werewolf, but he'd stay whatever happened.

Dora squeezed his hand to make him look at her. Her eyes were serious, almost glaring. It was an expression which reminded Remus that however caring she was being while he was ill, she was still livid with him for leaving.

"No," she said coldly, "There are no Squibs in this family".

* * *

 **October**

An odd thing that had developed over the last few weeks was a friendship with Bill and Fleur Weasley. Dora had known Bill at school, and Remus supposed they liked the same music and clothes. He had to admit too, that although Tonks and Fleur seemingly had very little in common and he'd always thought that they found each other irritating, perhaps they could relate to each other. They both looked different after all, and they took pride in their magical appearances. They were both married to victims of Fenrir Greyback, although everybody knew that Bill, and by extension Fleur, had got off more lightly.

The four of them had been to the pub for the evening and were now walking back towards Tinworth. Remus grimaced when he thought of how strange he must look next to all these young people- Dora had pointed out a few times that Bill was six years older than Fleur, but that was still eleven years younger than Remus. Tonks was nattering to Bill about some musician, and Remus had fallen into step behind Fleur. She wasn't especially easy to talk to, and Remus got the impression that she, like him, didn't entirely understand how he'd ended up in their group. When the four of them had been chatting in the pub, Remus had things to say to Fleur, but with Dora and Bill talking amongst themselves, he was drawing a blank. In the uneasy silence, Remus listened to what the others were saying in front of them.

"These are cool houses, aren't they?" Tonks was observing cheerfully, "Me and Remus might have to move when the baby's born. I'd be cool to have a proper big house, wouldn't it?"

"I wouldn't know," smirked Bill. The scars across his face had given his smile an odd bump in the middle.

"That's bollocks, the Burrow's huge," scoffed Tonks.

"That's because there's the nine of us, three owls and about ten hangers-on round at any one time. Mum keeps trying to trick me into saying I miss it, but I prefer the quiet,"

"I guess that happens when you grow up with the twins,"

"Exactly. You're an only child, you don't know the struggle,"

"On the other hand, I'm now an only child living with my husband and my Mum, with no siblings around to dilute the awkwardness," Dora pointed out.

"She's still not convinced about Remus, then?" sighed Bill.

"She's getting there," Dora shrugged, then continued bracingly, "When this is over we'll all probably get Order of Merlins for being in the Order, so we'll be able to afford a new house. Hopefully Dad'll be able to come home by then, too,"

Remus had always loved her flippant optimism, although wasn't sure where all this house talk was coming from. She'd never mentioned an interest in the subject before; she'd asked him to move into her flat once they were engaged, and now they were mostly living with Andromeda. The thought of moving into a new place together hadn't occurred to Remus.

"Since when do you get money for an Order of Merlin?" questioned Bill.

"Not for the OM itself, but you do publicity for it, interviews and stuff," Dora explained, "Even Mad-Eye did a few. And then me and Remus can get a nice big house in Trafford,"

Perhaps Tonks had always liked houses and just hadn't mentioned it before, Remus thought. Or maybe she'd had a phase when she was younger, and the pregnancy and the sort-of move to Andromeda's had made her think about it again. Her brain was like that; she often came out with a ridiculous story or an unexpected nugget of information. Remus always learnt things when he was with her, and he was always learning more about her. His wife was constantly surprising and bamboozling him. Remus hoped she'd never stop.

* * *

 **December**

She was still talking about houses a few weeks later. It was a Friday evening and Dora was sitting on the sofa beside him, chattering on about where they could move to. Remus had stopped listening- sometimes he liked to switch off to what his wife was saying and just watch the way she moved, the gestures she made with her hands and the shapes words made in her mouth. Tonks was fascinating to look at. She'd been putting on weight lately, although since they weren't sharing a bed anymore Remus hadn't had the opportunity to look closer this week. They started out trying to have one night a week back at the flat, though that had fallen by the wayside amongst the pre-Christmas busyness. Remus missed Tonks spooning up behind him and putting her hand over his heartbeat. He missed waking up with her beside him, knowing she was safe (although he didn't miss her twitching and fidgeting in her sleep, and accidentally kicking him awake when she got up). A few minutes ago he'd been lying with his head on her lap on the sofa, but then her mother had walked in and Remus sat up abruptly and shifted away so they weren't even touching. Dora rolled her eyes, but it was better to be safe than sorry with Andromeda, especially as she seemed to be gradually coming round to him of late. (Truthfully, Remus have moved away from his wife regardless of whoever it had been entering the room; he didn't like anybody seeing them like that).

"Remus?" said Tonks' voice, interrupting his thoughts.

He jolted. "Pardon?"

"Daydreaming again?" Dora smirked, then explained, "I was talking about the baby's bedroom. What colour should we paint it?"

He didn't understand. "Is it going to have a bedroom?"

"Hypothetically," Tonks clarified, as if this was obvious.

"Red?" Remus suggested absently. He loved her when she was like unpredictable like this, asking questions he'd never even thought of. Throwing curveballs, making his brain work in ways it had never had to before he met her.

"Womb-like. It'll feel right at home," Dora nodded, making him snort with laughter. Then she clicked her fingers and said with realisation, "You're only saying that 'cos red for Gryffindor,"

That hadn't occurred to him. "No. It's a nice colour," Remus shrugged, scanning his brain for more reasons to paint the child's room red, "It's welcoming. Warm. It works for a boy or a girl,"

They didn't know if they were having a girl or a boy; Tonks insisted that it should be a surprise (of course she did. She liked surprises. Things like that hammered home their age difference; she was open and unjaded) and she didn't mind either way. Remus wanted a girl. He wanted a child who was as different to him as possible. Not his gender, not his looks, not his Hogwarts house and please, _please_ not his dirty, cursed beast-blood. He wanted the baby to be like her, get everything from her, and nothing from him.

"This still sounds like Gryffindor propaganda to me. I'm painting its room Hufflepuff yellow, then," Dora needled.

Remus could tell she wanted him to argue. They both enjoyed pointless arguments like this; working around one another, trying to get a step ahead, having to consider what on Earth it was like in the other person's head (her head, Remus reckoned, was probably not on Earth). But he didn't want to argue about this. She thought she was teasing him but in his mind it was a threat; a taunt that the baby would inherit his curse.

"You really are dozy today, aren't you?" said Tonks, breaking into his thoughts again, "Do you want to go to bed?"

(The full moon was five days away). The concern in her voice was touching; Remus still sometimes had to pinch himself that he was cared about this much by another human being.

"I'm fine," he muttered.

"Alright," Dora nodded, "Yellow walls, then?"

"What about the walls you have in your room?"

Tonks' old bedroom, where Remus was sleeping, had a kind of paint on the walls which changed colour every few hours throughout the day and night. This morning the wall facing Remus's bed had been orange, the two either side had been purple, and the wall behind the bed had been grey.

"I found the tub a few months ago and it said not suitable for under 5s' bedrooms. Messes up their vision development or something," Dora explained, pulling a face.

"Ah, right," he murmured. Glancing at her, Remus remembered that she was looking for a silly argument. He'd give her one.

"Why not brown for Hufflepuff?" he suggested, throwing her a teasing smirk.

"Brown?"

"Yes,"

"Remus, I'm not giving birth to a mole,"

He snorted again for a moment, until his brain taunted that no, it wasn't a mole, it was a werewolf. Remus tried to push the thought away. There wasn't anything he could do about that now.

"Brown is a warm colour too," he pointed out, "And your child's probably going to get mud all over the walls, so at least it'll hide that,"

"I'll grant you that brown walls will be useful when it's in nappies," grinned Tonks.

"It might not be Hufflepuff _or_ Gryffindor colours," interjected Andromeda unexpectedly, "It could be a Slytherin,"

It took Remus a moment to realise what she meant.

"Yes, it might be," he agreed softly. All Blacks, almost, on its grandmother's side. That hadn't occurred to Remus before. It had taken him a few weeks to realise that the baby would be related to Sirius; something like his first cousin twice removed. It was a bizarre, funny and warm idea.

Their baby might be a Slytherin, Remus considered, but that didn't matter to him. He knew better than most people that labels weren't defining. Besides, their child's sorting was twelve years away. There were far more important things to worry about before then.

"D'you want it to get into Slytherin, Mum?" Tonks demanded.

"If Slytherin is right for it. Why, do you not?" Andromeda shot back.

"I'd prefer Hufflepuff, _obviously._ Yellow's better colour than green for a bedroom, and Dad said the common room's much nicer," Tonks shrugged (Andromeda, Dora had once told him, had sometimes given Ted the Slytherin common room password so they could meet there at night). The comment sounded blasé, just Dora wanting to get her own way as usual. There wasn't a baby's room to paint- it was, as Tonks had said, hypothetical. But the sharpness in her tone, and the haughty look Andromeda shot her as the former turned back to her newspaper, made Remus consider that perhaps he was the only one who was nervous about what they'd pass on to the baby.

"Well," said Andromeda, with a hint of something confusing and cold and hurt, "Children rarely do what parents would prefer,"

She turned the page in her newspaper. Remus resisted the urge to look over to his wife with a _what did that mean?_ expression. He didn't know who his mother-in-law was referring to, or if it was a general point. It was often difficult to tell with Andromeda; she was almost as good at disguise as her daughter. Surely Tonks wouldn't mind if the baby was a Slytherin? Surely Andromeda didn't _really_ want it to be- she wouldn't mind either way?

Frowning, Remus picked his mug up from the coffee table. The curse in his blood was the biggest threat to their child, that much was obvious. But, he thought, taking a sip of tea, that didn't mean that there weren't other sorts of curses- ones not caused by wands or bites, but by family, rivalry, secrets, pride, history and envy.

His was not the only scar.

* * *

 **February**

Three days after they got the letter telling them that Ted had been killed, Remus' wife went outside after teatime and sat in the garden. The first time, he'd followed her out and asked if she needed anything, but Dora had snapped at him to leave her alone and he did as she asked, leaving the door on latch for her. She did the same thing the following day, and the next, and Remus left her to it. She usually came inside after half an hour or so, looking a bit tearful, and went upstairs to her room. Today was the fifth day, and it was drizzling outside so Remus risked popping into the garden to offer his wife her anorak. Wordlessly, she took it and pulled it on. Remus left her to it and began to walk back towards the house, when Tonks said unexpectedly: "Stay here a minute,"

He came back over and sat down beside her on the damp patio. He didn't mind damp. He was used to damp.

Tonks was fiddling with her wand. "Have you ever used the Cruciatus before?" she asked.

He hadn't expected that. "No,"

She held out her hand to him, and Remus saw a brown beetle scurrying over her index finger.

"There you go," Dora offered.

Remus almost laughed, but she shoved her wand further towards his face and he saw that she was being serious. He found that the damp patio was suddenly very uncomfortable, and the weather was far too cold.

"No," he said stiffly.

"Mad-Eye did it on me on practically first day, and it's as good as legal now anyway,"

"Mad-Eye put the Cruciatus on you?" Remus echoed.

 _"Yeah,"_ said Tonks, in an irritatingly exaggerated tone, "Not every week, but a couple of times. Your first time was in a duel, wasn't it?

"My only time," Remus clarified, "Yes,"

It had been during the last war, not long after James' parents died. Remus had been doing some Order work with Peter- nothing dangerous, just some surveillance, and the two of them had gone for a drink together after Caradoc and Emmeline took over to watch. They'd been chatting over a pint in the Leaky Cauldron when the door flung open and Rowle and Gibbon had burst in, tipped over a table and started yelling and blasting curses. A few customers had run forward to defend themselves, and Remus had called to Peter to take the others out of the back exit to safety. There had been perhaps five of them, including Remus, against the two Death Eaters, but Rowle and Gibbon had a time advantage, and within seconds one of the drinkers who'd come to help Remus was disarmed and another was stupefied. Remus had attempted to stun Gibbon, but before he could there'd been a ripping pain in his bones, like when he was transforming into the wolf, but more acute, like a stabbing. The pain had only lasted a few moments and then he'd collapsed on the floor. By the time he could sit up again, the pub was half-destroyed and the Death Eaters had left.

Limping home with Peter a couple of hours later, it had occurred to Remus that considering he had a pretty high pain threshold and was used (if that was the word) to feeling his limbs contorted, his experience of the Cruciatus must have been less intense than most people's. Although a more intense sensation was difficult to imagine; it had been so sudden and painful overwhelming. James had asked Remus about it later and Sirius had smacked James round the head and told him to shut up.

"Well, you can understand why it's best to know what it's going to feel like before it hits you unexpectedly when you're duelling," Dora explained, back in the garden.

"I understand, I'm just surprised,"

Of course it'd be a part of Auror training- how were they to understand what an unforgiveable curse was if they hadn't experienced it themselves?- but Remus hadn't thought about it like that before. The mental image which swam into his head wasn't hugely abhorrent: he'd imagined Dora being tortured hundreds of times before- by Bellatrix, by Voldemort, by himself under the Imperious curse- so placing Mad-Eye in the picture, torturing her as part of a consensual training exercise, wasn't as bad.

She laughed. "You didn't know him at work. Anyway, come on, let this beetle pop your Crucio cherry,"

Her relationship with Mad-Eye had had an edge to it- the jibes they threw at each other, the shorthand, the understanding they had of when to question and when to obey, the toughness, the loyalty- which perhaps, Remus considered, only came through the sort of training where they had been required to torture each other.

"No," he repeated.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to torture something,"

"They teach it at Hogwarts now, haven't you heard what Ginny's been saying?" Tonks scoffed. He hated her patronising tone.

" _Death Eaters_ teach it at Hogwarts," Remus pointed out, then changed the subject, "Why don't you come inside, you're getting chilly out here,"

He wasn't sure what was going on, but he didn't like it.

"I'm fine. Don't you want to know what it _feels_ like?" Dora asked. There was far too much relish in her voice.

"Do you mind if we don't talk about this?" Remus asked uncomfortably.

"What else d'you think I've been doing out here?" she asked.

"What?"

"I've been thinking about Dad," Dora explained, "I bet they tortured him, I know they did. So I've been practising out here. It's making me feel kind of better,"

Once Remus registered her words, it was the ambivalence in her tone which shocked him the most. Tonks must have caught on to him shock because she looked at him and rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't go all professor on me. They did it to my dad so I reckon I'm allowed to do it to insects,"

It was such a bizarre comment that Remus almost laughed. But the look in her eye was deadly serious and her tone suggested that he was being pathetic. Remus could have kicked himself. How easily he overlooked who her family were, the ruthlessness of her aunts and cousins, the violence throughout the bloodline. It was a eye for an eye, always, with the Blacks. How could he have forgotten that about her? Underneath all the daftness and the pink hair and the Auror robes and the fact that she made him so incredibly happy, the Blackness was always lurking.

"I'm going to put the kettle on and run you a bath and you can come inside and relax," Remus announced, getting to his feet and trying to push away thoughts of Grimmauld Place and Sirius' mother, and the fact that Dora was torturing things _with their baby inside her._

Tonks laughed nastily. "You don't want to deal with me doing this. You want me to be sad and crying, like a nice _grieving_ wife," she accused, voice dripping with derision, "Well, sorry, because I'm not all fucking weepy and mopey, you can't just give me a hug and make everything better. I'm angry, I'm so fucking angry at them all, and I'm staying out here to torture spiders, okay?"

For a second, Remus thought she was blatantly wrong. He wanted to snap at her to stop acting like a child. He wanted to roll is eyes and ask irritably why she always had to be so dramatic. He wanted to lift her up and take her inside and hold her in his lap until she feel asleep. He wanted to drop to his knees and beg her to stop, please just stop, couldn't she see this was how Bellatrix had started? Insects one day, mice the next, cats then dogs then human beings. But wasn't that it? Tonks _was_ like Bellatrix, and like Sirius and Narcissa all the rest. Remus didn't like the Black part of his wife, and he'd pushed it away rather than confront it. Rather than accept it. It wasn't going away- this was who, what she was and he couldn't change it. She had insisted again and again that it didn't matter to her that he was a werewolf. Was he going to let it matter to him that she was a Black? She couldn't help who her family were, any more than he could help having been bitten. Love, he knew, was as much about the "despite" as it was about the "because".

Tonks reached up and batted a tear away from her face. Remus swallowed. He trusted her, didn't he? He trusted that if this was how it had started with Bellatrix, with Dora it would stop before it went further. She knew where to stop. She could choose to stop it- she had already, for years. She'd chosen a side. Shouldn't he, of all people, understand that?

Remus stood between the door and his wife for a moment. Then he stepped over to her, put a hand on her shoulder, and leaned down to kiss her forehead. She was right that he didn't like her grieving like this. But it was her grief, not his.

"Alright," he muttered softly, "You do what you need to do. I'll be waiting inside".

* * *

 **April**

She'd shown him her real face once before. He hadn't asked but she'd told him she needed to show him something. The pink hair and olive skin melted away and her features had lengthened and sharpened, becoming more elegant. Her eyes were the same shape as Sirius'. Objectively, he knew the face looking back at him was good-looking- more handsome than pretty, and certainly striking- but that was difficult to admit when it looked so much like that other face. The face which glowed around its Master and shrieked as it tortured. The face which, unbeknownst to Remus then, in a few week's time would cackle as it sent his best friend through the veil. Remus had told his wife- she'd been his girlfriend back then- that it didn't matter what she looked like and whichever face she chose would be her real face to him. He'd been telling the truth, and he hadn't thought about her other face for months. Except now Tonks was panting and groaning on her mother's bed, face contorted and breath heaving as she tried to push the baby out. She was sweating and swearing and pounding her fist on the mattress. Remus kept promising her that he knew she could do it and that it would be over soon and they'd have their baby. But as he looked at her he couldn't help but think how much the maddened, ferocious look on his wife's face was the same expression he'd seen on the face of Bellatrix Lestrange.

* * *

 **May**

"Okay," she whispered, "I'll stay here,"

Remus exhaled heavily. "Thank you," he croaked. Harry needed as many people as possible, but he didn't need her. She had to stay safe, she had to stay with Teddy.

Tonks, who had been pacing nervously up and down, came to a sudden stop in front of Remus, and reached up to grip his shoulders.

"If You-Know-Who kills Harry, they'll have won for good, right?" she intoned, "And they will find Teddy and they will hurt him,

Remus nodded. "I know,"

"Look at me," she told him. He met her eyes.

"So there's no thinking about killing anymore. You just do it, understand?" Tonks instructed.

It wasn't about killing, not yet. For the moment the Order needed to get the students out of school, protect Hogwarts, and buy Harry some time.

"Harry's looking for something, he needs time, he needs defending," Remus pointed out. He didn't have time to argue with Dora any longer- they'd wasted minutes deciding which one of them would stay behind, and he had to say goodbye properly to her and Teddy. That would be difficult enough.

"Yeah, from the people who want to kill him and kill you and kill your son," said Tonks, shaking him slightly, "Either that or they'll send him away to Greyback,"

She let go of his shoulders, ran a hand through her hair and continued, "I thought about this the day he was born. When you were out at Bill and Fleur's, I was watching him sleep and I realised how much easier it is to hurt people now. Mad-Eye always said you should consider your options, but there's no option when it comes to him, is there?"

Remus didn't reply.

"Is there?" Tonks snarled, glaring at him.

"No," he agreed. Didn't she realise that he understood what was at stake? Didn't she remember what he'd told Harry the night Mad-Eye died? If it came down to it Remus would fight, he would kill. He didn't need to think of Teddy to do that.

"Exactly. I want you to remember how he cries and imagine what it'll sound like when it's Bellatrix torturing him. Don't think she won't do that- if it's my baby she would. She'd love it, she'd probably get turned on by it,"

He winced, and Tonks must have noticed because she snapped, "That's why I'm saying this, because I want you to be thinking about it when you're there, so that you don't stop for a second,"

No, he thought sadly, she was saying this because she was a Black. Ruthlessness, violence and torture were a part of her.

"I know," Remus nodded, trying to move the conversation on. He had to leave soon, and he didn't want their last few minutes together to be like this. He wanted her to be teasing him, asking him annoying questions, kissing him, making him laugh, cuddling their baby together, instead of thinking of what would happen if he didn't come home. He wanted to say goodbye to her when she was being funny and mischievous and kind, not Black.

"Promise me you'll remember what they'll do to him?" Tonks insisted, and he noticed that she didn't look afraid. How strange she was.

"I promise,"

Dora pulled him to her and hugged him tighter that Remus could ever remember her holding him before. She threaded a hand into his hair and said through gritted teeth, "You say I have to stay here because I have to look after him 'cos I'm a mum now. But 'cos I'm a mum now it means there's nothing that could stop me from trying to kill them all,"

Was it because she was a mother, Remus wondered, or was it because she was a Black? Mothers _would_ kill, but they did not, generally, see violence as an incentive or a goal. Is that what Dora was doing? But he needed to leave soon and there were more important things to be thought and said. Remus pushed the questions to the back of his mind; he needed to focus now.

But if he'd have lived, he'd have thought about her words again later _. There's nothing that could stop me._ Conviction, disobedience, arrogance, violence. He should have known that she was never going to stay at her mother's house with the baby for long.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading. Perhaps surprisingly given the content, I've really enjoyed writing this chapter. Please review to let me know if you liked it too.** **If you want to read more about what a complicated, brilliant, frightening thing it is to be a Black, please check out my story _Magpies._ Thank you. **


	28. Facts

Facts

The truth is

He was dead before she arrived at the castle.

She was dead before she found him.


	29. Lunchtime

Lunchtime

He lifts her up and kisses her cheek and then her forehead, squeezing her tight.

"I missed you," he murmurs. She'd forgotten, almost, the timbre of his voice.

"I missed _you._ Merlin, this is crazy," she says. He's thinner than Tonks remembers although that's hardly surprising. His hair's longer and stragglier than it used to be, and his old clothes are moth-eaten.

"Crazier for me," he points out, setting her back on the kitchen floor.

She looks him up and down, noting that despite everything he's as goodlooking as ever. She's waited far too long to be back in his arms.

"It's really good to see you," she says.

"How's your Mum? I missed her m-"

"Hello?" calls a voice from the hall, and the kitchen door opens.

"Moony!" exclaims Sirius Black, letting go of Tonks and looking excitedly at the person who has just appeared in the doorway, "Look who it is!"

The man at the door is holding a plate in one hand, and has a mug and glass gripped in the other (Tonks notes that she wouldn't be able to carry two in one hand like that). He's shorter than Sirius with cropped, tousled curly hair that's brown turning grey, and ears that stick out a bit. He's wearing a black nightshirt and jogging bottoms, underneath a red dressing gown. From his untidy hair and bleary expression it's clear that he's only just woken up. _Jammy bastard,_ Tonks thinks, having left for work at seven in the morning. She has to admit, however, that the newcomer looks on the poorly side. He sounds out of breath, his skin is sallow and he's got bags under his grey eyes.

"Hello," he says, and he smiles as he holds out his hand, "Remus Lupin. I don't believe we've met. Sorry I'm not dressed, I didn't realise we had compa-"

 _"Met?_ If course you've met!" Sirius barks, "Don't you remember?"

Tonks has never seen this man before in her life, and he doesn't seem to recognise her either.

"Err, I don't, I'm afraid. My apologies," the man says awkwardly, looking unsure what to do with his hand for a moment, before shoving it into his dressing-gown pocket. His voice sounds hoarse.

"Me neither," Tonks admits, shrugging at him before looking to Sirius, "Should we know each other?"

"This is my cousin, Nymphadora. You know, Remus? Andromeda's kid,"

"Ah. Right. My apologies," Lupin repeats, sounding nonplussed.

"Nymphadora, this is my friend Remus. Moony. I used to bring him over sometimes when you were little. Don't you remember?" he demands again. He sounds slightly hurt and Tonks, still having no recollection of this man, can only mumble incoherently before Lupin cuts across her.

"It was ages ago," he tells Sirius, then adds to Tonks, "Never mind. It's nice to meet you again,"

"She's an Auror now," Sirius says, putting an arm around Tonks tightly. The pride in his voice is touching. "Mad-Eye's recruited her,"

Mad-Eye, who has characteristically excused himself from the family reunion to busy himself washing his eye in the sink, growls, "She's one of my best so don't go getting her head blown off,"

"Aw, Mad-Eye, that's so sweet," Tonks ribs him, then adds to Lupin, "It's only Sirius who calls me Nymphadora. Dreadful name, isn't it? Everybody else calls me Tonks,"

"Right,"

"Initial impressions, Tonks, go," orders Mad-Eye.

She turns to him exasperatedly. "We've only just met. It's rude,"

"Nonsense, he knew you when you were a kid. Verbal initial impressions thought, _now,"_

"What's he on about?" asks Sirius.

Tonks grimaces. "It's part of Auror reports. When you first see someone you have to mentally note all your initial impressions of them: what they look like, how old they are, how dangerous an opponent they look,"

Sirius beams wickedly. "And how dangerous an opponent does Mr Moony here look?"

The three men are looking at her expectantly, although Sirius's expression is tinged with mischief and Lupin's with discomfort. He's still holding his crockery.

"Well, I'd say he's probably experienced-"

"No!" barks Mad-Eye, "Start from the top,"

Tonks rolls her eyes, mutters, "Sorry about this," to Lupin, and begins, "Wizard is white male, mid-thirties, approximately five foot ten, slim build. Wearing nightwear of a dark colour. Slight accent, possibly Liverpool. Judging from age, wand callouses on palm, presumed membership of Order of the Phoenix and clear affiliation with Sirius Black, probably an experienced duellist. Possibly out of practice due to decade-plus of peacetime,"

Initial impressions aren't as difficult as people think they are, if you're paying attention. Some is estimation but plenty of information about somebody is clear from spending a minute in their company. Tonks is attempting not to draw attention to the fact that Lupin's been asleep and how peaky he looks, but Mad-Eye's prompt of, "Possible weaknesses," leaves her no choice.

"Wizard looks tired, possibly sickly, suggesting a chance of tiring quickly during combat. If it is safe to do so and Auror has back-up, physically disarming wizard may be an appropriate course of action. Happy?" Tonks snarls at Mad-Eye.

"Good," he observes, which coming from him is pretty high praise.

"Physical disarmament? Does that mean having a punch-up?" Sirius asks eagerly.

"No," says Tonks, at the same time Mad-Eye says, "Yes,"

"I'd rather not," says Lupin, smiling slightly, "I don't fancy my chances against any of you at present,"

"I'm sorry about all that, it's nothing personal," Tonks insists. Lupin doesn't seem to mind though, she reckons, he looks more amused than insulted.

"It's fine. Sirius's mother's portrait is upstairs and she says far worse things to me," he tells them. Tonks has no idea what that's supposed to mean.

"She'll have a field day with you, Nymphadora," notes Sirius. His tone is simultaneously mocking, humorous and grim, which only perplexes her more.

Tonks isn't sure what to say so mutters, "Don't call me Nymphadora,"

"Well, you'd better be getting back to the Ministry," Mad-Eye orders abruptly, "Only brought you here to meet your cousin,"

"It's really good to see you," Sirius tells her again, earnestly, "How's your Mum?"

"She's fine, Dad as well, they're both great. Think they're enjoying having the house back to themselves since I've moved out. Anyway, I need to hear everything about you. Breaking out of Azkaban, you lunatic," she grins, cuffing him around the head. Fourteen years he's been away. She can barely believe that she's got him back, standing in front of her with his high cheekbones and his long eyelashes and his deliberate slouch. She'd forgotten that's how he stands.

Sirius attempts to look sheepish for half a second, then grins. "I had to. It-"

"Tonks, get a move on, you need to be back at work," Moody commands.

"Right, sorry. I'll come again soon, Sirius, I'll need to meet everybody else,"

Tonks hugs him again and hurries out of the kitchen after Mad-Eye. Lupin, whose been standing in the doorway the whole time, tries to move out of her way at the same time as she dodges around him, so they end up stepping in the same direction and she crashes into him, making him drop the crockery he was holding. The glass shatters on the kitchen floor.

"Merlin, I'm sorry. I'm always doing that. Sorry, I-

"Don't worry," Lupin mutters quietly.

"I'll help you,"

"Nymphadora Tonks, if you keep me waiting one more minute I'll make you finish that paperwork you fobbed off on Castley last week!" Moody shouts. Tonks grimaces. For a man who is allegedly retired, Mad-Eye seems to know everything that goes on in their department.

"Sorry, I've got to go,"

"Yes. Alright," says Lupin, flicking his wand at the shards on the floor.

Tonks blows a kiss to Sirius, runs into the hall, dodges the umbrella stand, catches up with Moody by the front door and immediately starts grumbling at him. "Thank you, Mad-Eye, _thanks._ Just what I needed, for you to make me look an idiot in front of my long-lost cousin,"

"Just making you do your job properly," he grunts. He shoves open the front door and they head out onto the porch and down the steps onto the Grimmauld Place pavement.

"How much about that Lupin bloke did I get right, anyway?" she asks, "He looks older than mid-thirties but he's can't be if he was at school with Sirius, right? I got Liverpool wrong, didn't I, that was a total guess,"

"Yes, he's Sirius's age. No, he's not from Liverpool. Why d'you think he looks ill?"

"Cos he's tired? He's hungover? There's a surprise dragon-pox epidemic?"

Mad-Eye turns to her. "Bright witch like you should be able to work it out if you give it a bit of thought. I'll give you until the end of the day,"

"You're giving me four hours to come up with a diagnosis from the _world's most non-specific symptoms?"_ Tonks clarifies with an eye-roll. Being Mad-Eye Moody's protegee isn't much fun when he gives her unhelpful, un-interesting and probably un-solve-able challenges like this. Mad-Eye can be a right pain at times.

"Yes. Now go and get yourself some food before you go back to the Ministry, that's not the only work you've got this afternoon," Moody tells her. He gives her his _'well, get on with it'_ nod, which is the Moody equivalent of a goodbye, then turns and stalks away, his peg-leg clacking on the pavement.

Tonks flicks two fingers up at his back.


	30. All The Devils Are Here

**Title from Shakespeare's _The Tempest._ This chapter is set in** **November of _Half-Blood Prince._ It's** **a bit experimental and I hope you like it. Warnings for language, angst, sex and werewolf-y violence. Mentions of bombs, r*pe and homophobia.**

All The Devils Are Here

In July 1940, a Messerschmidt bomber, having finished a bombing raid on the port of Whitehaven, dropped two leftover bombs over the Lake District on its way back to Germany. The pilot, Kris Baumann, saw a lamplight and dropped both bombs in quick succession, hoping to have hit a house. Baumann succeeded. The first bomb landed twenty yards from Keswick House, an eighteenth-century manor house belonging to the local wealthy businessman, Jeremy Constable. The children, Caroline and Stuart, were staying with relatives at the time, but both their parents, the housekeeper and one of the scullery maids were injured, and the stable boy was killed. His name was Samuel Asher and he was seventeen years old. The house was badly damaged and Mr Constable's business was struggling due wartime poverty. As a result, the family moved away from the property, and the house fell into disrepair.

The second bomb landed half a mile from the house, creating a crater. Due to the slippery Cumbria sandstone, the crater eroded in such a way that a tunnel was hollowed out. In the 1960s local children dared each other to climb into the tunnels, which were dark and scary as well as carrying the risk of collapsing at any moment. In 1974 a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback and a couple of his cronies moved into the tunnels, and fashioned them into caves. Two children disappeared that year- Evelyn Tinner, who was six, and Michael Gibson, who was ten. They were last seen playing by the caves.

Greyback and his mob- or "pack" as they referred to themselves- were a sporadic presence in Keswick for many years. Werewolves came and went and the pack often moved location, only returning to Keswick House and its caves every few years. Greyback himself wasn't always with his pack, often disappearing for weeks at a time. When he returned, those who asked where he had been were suitably punished so that they didn't ask again.

In the Summer of 1995, things changed. More werewolves appeared, literally, from the woodwork. After years of being hated and feared by their wizarding community, word spread that Greyback had an in with the Dark Lord. He Who Must Named, the werewolf whispers claimed, did not dismiss werewolves as dangerous or impure. "Mudbloods yes, werewolves no," the rumours promised. Wolves who for years had been sceptical about Greyback's colony, preferring to survive alone, found themselves drawn to the promise of security. A better world for their kind- well, it could hardly be worse than the present situation of no employment, no security and being spat at in the street by wizards. Keswick became a permanent base, and numbers grew so that by 1997 Greyback's following was as strong as it had ever been, with sixteen men and nine women in the pack. In the Autumn of that year, a man named Lorcan Jarndyce Rowe came to join them.

* * *

Remus is sure that Greyback's werewolf camp is the only place that's ever existed where sleeping inside a manor house is a sign of humiliation and sleeping in a cave is a sign of acceptance to the clan. The cave, Greyback laws, is where the _real_ werewolves sleep. The ones who have proved themselves- what, exactly? Loyal, skilful, bloodthirsty? The ones who have gone along with Greyback's whims for that day? The werewolf alpha has many whims, but unfortunately none so far have involved Lorcan Rowe, Remus' alias, gaining permission to spend the night in the caves. Remus is sure that if he made it to sleeping in the caves he'd have more of a chance to integrate himself with the pack, gain intel and perhaps be able to sway some minds. As it is he's banished to the house with Amorag and Harley, two of the other newish werewolves, plus whoever else has displeased Greyback that day (so far it's always been men. Remus doesn't know if that's coincidental or not).

In the day he's busy talking to the wolves (they call themselves wolves even when not transformed), eavesdropping on conversations and scribbling down notes to send to Dumbledore. In the daytime his guard is up, his senses alert, his brain occupied and paranoid. At night there's none of that to occupy him. Remus' thoughts wander and they always skulk down the same unpleasant alleys. Remembering night James and Lily died, when everybody was celebrating and he felt so furious and disorientated. Opening the newspaper a few days after, seeing Sirius' face on the front page and reading with horror about what he'd done. That night a couple of years later when he'd been in bed recovering from a full moon and his landlady had stormed in, screamed that she knew what he was and demanded that he leave that minute. After the shock, and the panic to grab his things and run, the street outside had seemed huge and empty. Remus didn't know where to go. There was nowhere to go. Drinking tea the morning after Mam's funeral thinking that she really was gone now. She was never going to be here again. The gleeful smirk Severus shot him before he dropped the word "werewolf" at breakfast. The feeling of Harry wriggling in his arms as he screamed that Sirius was coming back. Having to force out the words, "He can't come back because he's dead", and then losing grip of Harry and thinking _not him too, please not Harry as well_. The look on Dora's face when he told her he was ending things between them. She'd been surprised and bewildered. She hadn't seen it coming. Remus had spent months- longer than they were even together- picturing the scene where _she_ broke up with _him_. He'd imagined what she was going to say so many times and in so many ways- _this was a mistake._ _You're too old for me. I don't want to do this anymore._ _I've met someone else. Look, it's been a laugh but let's call it a day, shall we? You're dangerous. Remus, you're a decent bloke but you're also a monster._ _Work's really busy at the moment._ _It's not me, it's you. I don't know what I've been thinking these past few months. Remus, my parents want me to break up with you. What's someone like me doing with someone like you? I don't think we should see each other any more. You'll get in the way of my career. We just don't have much in common. DON'T TOUCH ME, WEREWOLF, DON'T LOOK AT ME, DON'T COME NEAR ME OR MY FAMILY EVER AGAIN!-_ that he felt prepared for whatever transpired. He'd even practised an understanding expression and a promise that this wouldn't affect their working together.

But Tonks hadn't split up with him. And after Sirius died a new kind of realisation hit, a clarity about how stupid and selfish this had all been. How little he deserved her and how much danger their relationship put her in. Remus hadn't had as much time to prepare for ending them himself as he had imagining Tonks doing it, so he wasn't surprised that it went wrong. How could it have gone right? He'd walked away from her afterwards and promised himself that he'd go away and leave her alone to get over him. That wouldn't take long, and if he wasn't there then he wouldn't have to see her and cause himself more pain. Dumbledore had asked repeatedly if Remus was sure about the assignment to the werewolf pack, and Remus had promised the headmaster that he was. It would be hard, he knew, but he deserved hardship after what he'd done to Tonks. He deserves to be reminded of what he really is.

He's been here three months now. Part spy for the Order, part converter to talk the werewolves out of Greyback's brainwashing bloodthirst. The balance is difficult- if Remus sticks his head above the parapet trying to persuade some of the wolves away from Greyback, they become suspicious, and that mars his chances of getting any information out of them. Likewise, asking too many questions about that the alpha is up to dents his ability to talk anybody out of Greyback's insistence that life will be better under Voldemort. This suspicion "Lorcan" creates is the reason he's not permitted in the caves, so at night he's curled on drawing room floor in the manor house, surrounded by broken furniture, smashed windows, torn carpets, crude graffiti that the pack have scrawled on the wall, and Amorag, Harley and whoever else bickering. Remus doesn't get much sleep and his dreams are full of Harry, Sirius, Mam, Peter, James, Dad, Lily, Dora. Occasionally Bellatrix features, launching Sirius through the veil and Remus is powerless to stop it, like he was when it really happened. Or Bella is duelling Tonks and he can hear them but he can't see, and he needs Mad-Eye but Mad-Eye isn't there. The worst Tonks dreams are when he relives being in bed with her. The weight of her on top of him and the feel of her beneath him. Her sinewy arms around his neck. How she looked naked and the face she made when he made her come. The things she'd say blur into each other in his mind: _More. Yes. Again. You're such a special guy. Oh my God. I love you. Open your eyes. Slower. Harder. You're amazing. Yeah, right there. You're so hot right now. Fuck, I love you. Remus, Remus. I'm so close._ _Close your eyes. Don't stop. I love you._ She was always asking questions so it wasn't a surprise that she didn't stop in bed. _You're gorgeous, you know that? Is that good? Can you do that again? Faster? What do you want me to do next? Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?_

It always feels wrong in his dreams, like he knew it always was in reality but ignored. It's worse than hearing her fight her aunt because this time it's _him_ doing it- doing what? He isn't sure- and it's a vile, unsettling blend of lust and violence, of enjoying it and feeling sickened by it, of loving her and knowing that he can't be with her, of having ended things and knowing that he should never have started them. (He _did_ start it, he kissed her first). Remus wakes sweaty and flustered, and he knows he must have been mumbling and Merlin-knows-what else in his sleep, because the others are sniggering at him. It's not dissimilar to how the Marauders used to giggle at each other for the same thing back when they were teenagers sharing a dormitory (Sirius didn't care because he was having actual sex from the age of fourteen. Peter would giggle awkwardly, and James would blush magenta while everybody teased him that he was jizzing in his sleep over Lily Evans). But the werewolves' cackles have a harshness, and Harley goads, "Whose your bit of skirt, Lorcan? When are you bringing her here for us all to get acquainted?".

"Bit of skirt? Ain't you heard Rowe's a fairy?"

They guffaw to themselves and eye Remus to gauge his reaction. He reckons that the taunt is supposed to make him angry, but he aims to avoid conflict here. Which is easier said than done because petty arguments are always starting between the wolves. They fight over food, chairs, whose turn it is to talk, and often Remus finds himself somehow in the midst of an argument he didn't realise he was having. The rumour that Lorcan is gay has clung to Remus for a few weeks now. The werewolf camp is horribly sexual; the men joke about rape and compare numbers of women they've had sex with to numbers of women they've bitten. They jack off together, slobbering, calling out increasingly lewd fantasies. Remus can't bear to be near them even though it might help him fit in more. The fact that he wouldn't join in was how the gay rumours started, and now whispers of "Fruitcake", "Fairy" and "Poof" follow him around. One of the older men clapped him on the back and told him, "We'll soon sort you out, lad. You'll get a taste for it". The mention of 'taste', Remus grimaced, was meant in two ways, and both of them feature in his dreams about Tonks. He finds that, oddly he dreams about her stomach more than her face. She had quite an interesting stomach, as stomachs went. That piercing in her navel; cold against his face and metallic-tasting on his tongue and poking into his stomach when he was on top of her. Auror work had given her muscles; her abs were unusually hard and Remus remembers last Christmas at Grimmauld Place when she challenged the twins, "Go on, punch me. Guarantee it'll hurt you more than me". She had a tattoo of a pirate ship above her left hip. Remus had once asked her why she got it and what it meant.

"It means I was sixteen and drunk,"

He'd goggled at her and she laughed. "Kidding. I got it a couple of years ago in Camden, cost a flipping fortune. I just fancied it, I s'pose I liked the design,"

Remus still goggled at her.

"What?"

Remus reckoned that of all the versions of himself in every universe, not one of them would spend money on a tattoo for no other reason apart from just fancying it. No significance other than liking it. Tonks was nothing like him. And that was the most exciting thing. _Nymphadora,_ he thought fondly, _what on Earth is it like in your head?_ But he hadn't said it out loud. Instead, he'd leaned over and kissed her.

Now, he dreams of the pirate ship tattoo and the piercing, and of the curve of her waist and taste of her skin. And often that taste becomes blood, and his jaws clamp around her stomach and she's screaming and bleeding and Remus wants to let go but he can't, he can't-

"Shut the fuck up, Rowe," barks Harley, hurling a chunk of chair leg at Remus. The nightmares have made him thrash and squeal and wake them up again. _It's a dream, it was just a dream,_ he tells himself, gulping air into his lungs, _she isn't here, she's safe, you didn't hurt her._ He forces himself to look around the room to remind himself of where he is. In the house at the camp. Not in Dora's warm bed, surrounded by her cushions and her purple duvet while they kissed and talked and she told him about her pirate ship tattoo. He isn't there and he never will be again, even if he survives this mission. _It's useless, it's utterly fucking futile_ , Remus thinks as he glances round the room and Harley and Amorag growl at him to go back to sleep. He's not getting anything done; he's found almost no information for Dumbledore and talked no werewolves away from Voldemort. He's got scrawnier and sicker and frailer, he's hungry, cold and exhausted, he's bewildered and scared. None of his friends are here. The only person Remus hears from who cares about him is Dumbledore, but the Headmaster's codes make pleasantries impossible. There's no warmth or encouragement in Dumbledore's correspondence, only instructions and information. Dora isn't here. Sirius is dead. All that happens here is humiliation.

Remus is in hell.

* * *

 **Thanks for your time. I hope you liked the slightly different style of this chapter. Whatever you thought, please let me know in the reviews. I haven't had much feedback on the last few chapters, so I'd be really grateful if you left a review of any of them too. Thank you very much.**


	31. In A Name

In A Name

"I think it's a girl,"

"Really? That's nice,"

"Yeah,"

"What shall we call her? Dorothemalia? Moragolily? Agraphasia?"

"Very funny,"

"I'm just thinking of names that match with Nymphadora,"

"Our kid's name is going to be two syllables tops,"

"Alright, how about Myrtle?"

"Shut up,"

"Dolores?"

"Remus,"

"Hmm?"

"If it's a boy d'you think we could name him after Moody?"

"Mad-Eye Lupin? Alright,"

"No, you goon. Alastor. For a middle name, perhaps,"

"Yes. Yes, that'd be nice,"

"He'd obviously think it sounds dead soppy,"

"I think it sounds perfect,"

"If it's a girl we could give her your Mum's name as a middle name, if you like,"

"Ah yes, Theodoramiloo Hope Lupin,"

"I _will_ strangle you".


	32. Fallen Warrior

**Some of the dialogue in this chapter is from** ** _Deathly Hallows_** **Ch8 Fallen Warrior (one of my favourites). Written by JKR and I'm not making any money off it. Some of the dialogue was written by me, but I'm not making any money off it either. Hope you like this one.**

Fallen Warrior

Tonks hasn't let go of him since she leapt off the broomstick and hurled herself into his arms. The whole time they'd been outside with the others, sharing their stories about what had happened while nervously waiting for the last pairs to arrive, she'd been clutching Remus' arm with her other hand snaked around his waist to hold him against her. It was embarrassing, in front of Harry and Ron and Hagrid and everybody, but Dora's grip was so tight and she seemed to need him so much that it would have been cruel to shrug her off or mutter, "Later". And then Bill and Fleur had arrived and Mad-Eye was dead. After a moment of frozen shock Remus had felt Tonks crumple into him, and now, inside, she's whimpering into his shoulder. Molly and Hermione are weeping too. Harry looks too shocked to cry, which is how Remus feels. Mad-Eye Moody- tougher than steel with a tongue twice as sharp. Missing an eye, a leg and part of his nose but showing no interest in slowing down or giving up the fight. Blasted from the sky like a shot pigeon. Remus had known that they'd have to find the body from the moment Bill had told them that Moody was dead. The thought of the Death Eaters getting their hands on Mad-Eye's body is the only thing worse than him dying.

"We've got work to do," Remus announces.

Tonks has been half-listening to them all. Fleur suspects Hagrid of letting something slip, Harry, nobly, had declared that he trusted them all, Remus told him he was like James. It will matter in the morning but it doesn't matter now because Mad-Eye is dead. Mad-Eye- her friend since she answered back to him during her first week at the Ministry. They'd worked and planned and bickered and teased and survived together. Everybody knew she was his favourite. The first year Tonks was qualified he'd gone away to teach and she'd been more nervous than she'd ever admit to be an Auror without him. Mad-Eye could tell she was worried, of course, and he'd promised her that she'd be fine. And she was, but _he_ wasn't. After months of silence from him, when Tonks had worried that perhaps she wasn't as important to him as she'd thought, Mad-Eye sent her an owl. In code, he explained that he was sorry for not writing and that they needed to speak urgently in utmost confidence. She'd met him, disguised obviously, in Victoria Park, and they'd walked around the pond while Mad-Eye recounted everything that had happened to him over the last year (his voice, Tonks remembered, had been matter-of-fact, and after the third time she'd gasped "No way!" he'd told her to shut up. Tonks snarked back that he was trying to show off by acting so causally about being locked in his suitcase for nearly a year). Mad-Eye explained that Voldemort was back, and the secret society he'd been in the last time was reform, and he wanted Tonks to join. And she had, and now she's got Molly and Arthur and their kids, Hagrid and Harry and Daedalus. Remus. And Mad-Eye, who had brought all these people and all that knowledge and experience and advice into her life, is dead.

"I can ask Kingsley weather-" Remus says above her and Bill interrupts, "No, I'll do it. I'll come".

What? Come where? What are they going to do? "Where are you going?" Tonks blurts, as Fleur asks the same question.

"Mad-Eye's body," says Remus, "We need to recover it,"

In the shock of his death Tonks hasn't even thought about that.

"Can't it-" Molly begins, but Bill cuts across and tells her that it couldn't unless she wanted the Death Eaters to get hold of it. The threat drops heavily in the room. Remus puts his hands on Tonks' shoulders and moves her away from him. She realises that he and Bill are leaving immediately.

"Wait," she mutters. She doesn't want to let Remus go, not after everything that's happened. He glances down at her.

"Be careful," Tonks implores.

"I know," Remus replies seriously. But he _doesn't_ know. Waiting for the others outside, Tonks had wondered whether she should tell him. She hadn't been sure and had reckoned that she could decide in the morning. But if Remus is going back out there _now_ he _has_ to know. Tonks closes her eyes and leans up towards his ear.

"Bellatrix knows about us,"

Her mother's sister had taunted her as the Death Eaters chased them through the sky. Bellatrix had cackled gleefully about the things she hoped Remus does to her, the things she'd make him do once she caught him. Tonks had wanted to yell at her to shut up, to get her husband's name out of her mouth (although Bellatrix hadn't called him by his name. She'd called him...other things), but they were surrounded. Ron was shooting curses everywhere and Tonks was trying to duel while flying, and Bellatrix had got angrier. The cackles were replaced by screeches and she started hurling killing curses and screaming about how dirty and sick it was to marry a werewolf, but it wasn't a surprise considering Andromeda and "that Mudblood". Jets of green whizzed past them and Ron was yelping and swearing and the air was full of streams and stars and smoke, until they skidded into Muriel's garden.

Remus looks down at his wife. Bellatrix knows. The news must have leaked out with whoever it was who betrayed them to Voldemort. _Bellatrix knows._ That's why she tried so hard to kill Dora. _This is all his fault._ He'd known that marrying her was a mistake from about the day after he agreed to it, but this is worse than he thought. Bellatrix wanted Dora dead already and now he's made her even more of a target. And Bellatrix doesn't just duel to kill, she duels to torture and humiliate.

"I'm sorry," Remus manages to murmur. He can't meet her eyes, but Tonks puts her hand on jaw to make him look at her.

"Be. Careful," she repeats. It isn't him who needs to be.

"Yes," he manages to agree and she squeezes him hard.

"Come back to me," Tonks whispers. He doesn't take risks and he'll be with Bill, but she doesn't find that hugely reassuring with the threat of Bellatrix out there. Her husband isn't' the kind of guy who will smile to make her feel better, or promise that of course he'll be back, so Tonks isn't surprised when says nothing and gives her only a grim look. She wants to kiss him goodbye, but he'll hate that in front of everybody. He's probably irritated at her for being so clingy all night. So Tonks lets him go, and he moves away from her, says a couple of words to Molly, claps Harry on the shoulder, and disappears through the living room door with Bill. He does not look back. And he does not know, because of neither of them do, that inside her the thing has started to grow.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading. Please drop me a review.**


	33. Ted Talks: Part 1

Ted Talks: Part 1

The first Ted heard of it was at the start of July, a few weeks after Sirius died. Dora was out of hospital and had insisted on going back to work and back to her flat as soon as she could, sooner than Ted would have liked. When Dora popped round to visit Ted and Andromeda at the end of her second week back at the Ministry, her hair was a bland brown colour. Ted shot Dromeda as perplexed glance, but his wife shrugged and went to hug their daughter as she appeared out of the fire. Dora seemed down all evening and when Dromeda was out of the room (Ted's wife and daughter did not have the easiest of relationships, and Andromeda was taking Sirius' death hard. Ted thought it best that she not be here for this conversation) he'd asked gently, "Dora, your hair?"

"Mmm?"

"Did you morph it like that?"

"Um...no," she mumbled, then grimaced and pled, "Don't make me say it, Dad,"

Ah. Ted had suspected this, vaguely remembering something similar happening to Dora for a while when his father died. The magic wasn't working.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Cheers. It's so bloody humiliating how _obvious_ it is,"

"I know I've said it before, but what happened to Sirius wasn't your fault," Ted reassured her.

"Hmm," she mumbled again, sounding unconvinced.

"Mad-Eye said that even he couldn't have-"

"Put a sock in it will you?" Dora snapped, "It isn't just about Sirius,"

"What?"

"Well," she squirmed, "It is sort of. I dunno. I don't know anything about it anymore, that much is obvious,"

Miserably, she tugged on a lock of brown hair.

"What do you mean?" Ted asked.

His daughter screwed her eyes shut, cringing. "I was seeing somebody and we split up,"

Ted hadn't expected that.

"Oh. Sorry to hear that," he replied, nonplussed. She was as upset over some bloke as she was about Sirius _dying?_

"Yeah," she muttered.

"I don't need to go round and box a young man's ears, do I?" Ted offered, wincing at himself when the joke didn't come out right.

"No. It wasn't like that," Dora sighed.

"It's clearly upset you,"

"Yeah, it has," she confirmed dejectedly, "Don't tell Mum, okay?"

* * *

Ted's daughter had remained miserable for the rest of the Summer. She visited every few weeks looking increasingly drawn, and the brown hair remained. At the end of August she reported that she was being posted to Hogwarts to guard the castle.

"I'll be there all school year," she explained.

"How many of you?" asked Dromeda.

"Me, Savage, Proudfoot and Dawlish,"

Dawlish, Ted knew, was the renowned idiot of the Auror department. Dora would usually make a joke about how useless and irritating he was, but this time she didn't.

"Are they expecting an attack on the school?" Ted asked.

"Don't suppose so, but it's a possibility, isn't it? Plus Harry,"

Dora's world seemed to revolve around Harry Potter.

"They're not going to come for the boy at _school,_ are they?"

"They might," Andromeda cut in, "They'll be after him like bloodhounds,"

"Especially after the Ministry," Dora agreed.

"Christ," breathed Ted. Harry Potter was- what? Fifteen? Sixteen? And Death Eaters might attack him in his bedroom? Poor boy. Dora liked him and said he was quite a laugh, but he'd been through an extraordinary amount for one so young.

"I'm not saying it's likely, but Harry being there might make Hogwarts a focal-point for an attack or gathering," Dora rattled off.

"Where's Mad-Eye in all this?" Andromeda asked.

"He's staying in London. I can cope without him, you know," Dora answered testily.

"I know, but after…"

"Mum, I'll be fine,"

She didn't look fine. She looked sullen and frightened. Ted didn't like the idea of her going away to Scotland for a year, even if she'd be staying in Hogsmeade. She'd be away from him and Andromeda, and Kingsley and Mad-Eye and the Order and all her friends. Ted reckoned she needed her friends.

Later, once Dromeda had left to play Bridge, he prompted gently, "I'm worried about you, sweetheart,"

Dora folded her arms across her chest and didn't say anything.

"Come on, talk to me. Is it still Sirius?"

She nodded and blurted, "I ruined _everything._ He was in prison for so long and he'd only just his life back. He hadn't duelled for twelve years so I was supposed to protect him, and I didn't, and he _died_. He had loads more to do, and Harry needs him, and it's my fault he isn't here. Mum's angry at me, and I couldn't even look Harry in the face at the Burrow, and Remus has gone away,"

She pushed her face into her knees.

"Nobody's angry at you," Ted attempted to reassure her, "Your mum certainly isn't,"

"Come on, of course she is. She'd only just got him back, and it's my fault he's dead. I was supposed to protect him. Remus thinks it's all my fault, that's why he ended it,"

Her voice trembled and her words were blurring into each other.

"Remus who?" Ted asked, "What?"

"Lupin. He's Sirius' best friend and we were together, and he thinks it's my fault because it is all my fault," she mumbled, and tears spilled down her face.

"Did he tell you that?" Ted barked sharply.

"No," Dora admitted.

"Well then, that's just what you're telling yourself, isn't it? Listen- nobody blames you,"

Dora didn't say anything, and Ted had a moment to take in that this Remus character was the boyfriend she was so upset about. Ted had a feeling he'd heard the name before.

"Lupin...Sirius's friend? From school?" he asked, fishing in his mind for the connection.

She nodded.

"You were together with him?"

She nodded. How much younger was Dora than Sirius, Ted tried to remember. Ten years? Fifteen? Crikey, that was quite an age gap, but Ted stopped himself blabbing anything out. Commenting on how old her boyfriend- well, ex-boyfriend- was would not help the situation. And there was something else familiar to Ted about the name- had he read in in the newspaper? The _Prophet_ was guff these days but Ted and Dromeda still got it delivered, and read it with a heavy pinch of salt. Something perhaps about Lupin and Hagrid? Why _Hagrid?_ Had Skeeter being prattling on about Dumbledore appointing dodgy staff? Hagrid was daft, but sweet and harmless, not at all like a- and then Ted remembered.

"Dora, he's a werewolf!"

That was the article in the _Prophet_ ; Remus Lupin had taught Defence Against The Dark Arts at Hogwarts for a year, resigning when news leaked out that he was a werewolf. It had been all over the _Prophet_ that Summer, and again a few months ago. A werewolf teaching school, around children- Ted and Andromeda had been stunned.

Dora lifted her face off her knees and said simply, "Yes. He is,"

Ted balked, shocked by both the confirmation and the casual way Dora had acknowledged it. Then he was hit by fury.

"What did he do to you?" Ted choked out, "Did he hurt you? Did he-"

"Dad-"

"Whatever happened, whatever he's done, we'll sort it. We'll tell Mad-Eye, he'll-"

"Dad, stop, stop. Yes, he's a werewolf and if you spent five minutes with him you'd know that he's been to hell and back because of it, and all it's done is made him kind,"

She was speaking rapidy and her words took a couple of seconds to sink in. When they did, Ted gaped at her.

"You'd like him, Dad," Dora continued, ignoring his astonishment, "He's dead clever and funny, he's a proper gentleman-"

"He's a werewolf!"

"I know!" she shouted, "I knew from the start, and Sirius knew from when they were kids. He's not what you're imagining, he gets really poorly around the full moon. He hates transforming, he wouldn't hurt anybody,"

"Apart from when he turns into a monster," Ted snapped. Rage was coming faster now- he was angry at Dora as well as this Remus character. What the hell was she doing, defending someone like him?

"Don't call him that! Don't _ever_ call him that again!" Dora screeched, leaping to her feet. And then, suddenly, tears were spilling down her face again, harder and angrier than before, "He was four years old when he was bitten. Imagine that, four. You have no idea what life's been like for him,"

She threw herself back into the chair and gripped her face as she started to cry. _Is this what the werewolf's done to her?_ Ted thought, _Turned her into hysteric?_

There was a moment of quiet, in which the only sound was Dora's sobbing. Ted counted to five, then ten, and swallowed to stop himself shouting. They weren't going to get anywhere if she was crying and shrieking and he was yelling at her.

"Okay, let's calm down for a minute," he suggested out loud, to himself as well as his daughter.

"So you can tell me I'm being stupid 'cos he's too dangerous," Dora mumbled bitterly. She moved her hands away from her face, pinned him with a stare and declared, "I love him, Dad. I love him and nothing you say is going to change that,"

Ted glanced around, aghast, unable to look at his daughter. How could she be talking like that about a werewolf? Ted swallowed and tried to push that question from his mind and concentrate on the present logistics: "Where is he now?"

"I told you, he's had to go away,"

"Where?"

"Order stuff,"

"When's he coming back?"

"I don't know. I don't know anything about it, and I'm worried to death about him," she said, half-sob half-growl.

"I can tell," said Ted, trying to sound patient.

"It's not what it sounds like," she promised, "I know he's older and he's a werewolf, but he isn't taking advantage or anything. God knows we didn't expect this to happen, and all he's tried to do all along is the right thing. That's why he went away,"

 _And got his filthy werewolf paws off my daughter,_ Ted thought.

"I'll show you, I'll show you we were happy," Dora told him. She jumped to her feet again and grabbed her coat from where she'd left it hanging on the door. She rummaged in the pockets, took out her wallet, extracted a small crumpled piece of card and handed it to Ted.

"See?"

It was a photograph. Dora was sitting at a table with her elbow leaning on the narrow shoulder of the man sitting beside her. Ted vaguely recognised his curly hair and his sticking-out ears from the boy Sirius had brought over to their house a couple of times (knowing that he was a werewolf! If he was alive Ted would yell at Sirius for betraying their trust like that. But Sirius was dead and Ted would never roll his eyes at him or tell him off, or act as a father to his wife's cousin, ever again), but the man in the photo looked much older. Of course he was, fifteen years almost, but his hair was grey and his face was lined and he looked far too exhausted for a man in his thirties. If Ted hadn't known, he'd have guessed that the man was his own age or older. The Dora in the photo was eyeing him with amusement and awe, like Ted's seen her sometimes look at Mad-Eye when the Auror's back's turned. But there was something else in her expression in the photo when she looked at the curly-haired man. Adoration. Fixation. She leaned over and smushed a kiss to his cheek. The man pulled a face and pushed her off him playfully. Then he winked.

Ted looked up at his daughter. She was crying again, and crossly wiping the tears away with her fist.

"We were really happy, Dad," she said.

* * *

Ted owled Mad-Eye. Mad-Eye would be able to tell him everything. Mad-Eye wanted what was best for her. Mad-Eye would know what to do. They met in a crumbling bar on the corner of Knockturn Alley. Moody claimed his reply owl that he didn't have much time (he never did), so Ted got there early, and waited for the old Auror to hobble in.

"Mad-Eye, good to see you," Ted said once Moody arrived and interrogated him to confirm that Ted wasn't an imposter.

Moody regarded him with his whizzing eye. "Ted,"

"How are you? You're looking well," said Ted, inanely.

"Cut to the chase, I don't have time for chit-chat," Moody told him bluntly. He shook Ted's hand for a split-second before letting go.

"My daughter and Remus Lupin," Ted began carefully.

To Ted's surprise, Moody nodded thoughtfully. "Ah," he said.

"Did you know about them?"

"Yeah," Mad-Eye grunted.

"And?"

"And what, Ted?"

"What about them? What the hell's gone on? What's he like?" Ted demanded. He wanted answers, but he wasn't sure what exactly he wanted to hear.

"Lupin? Nice boy. Things haven't been easy for him,"

Ted gave him _go on_ look.

"Wise. He talked sense into Sirius, if that was possible. He reckons he's a bit intellectual if you ask me," Mad-Eye shrugged, "He's good at following orders. Was in the Order the first time around so he knows what he's doing,"

"He isn't- she says he isn't, you know," Ted hesitated, "Violent?"

"For Camelot's sake, of course not. Is that what you've been thinking? He isn't like that. Not all of them are,"

The patrionising tone in Mad-Eye's voice made Ted want to snarl at him. Instead, he sipped his beer and asked, "What happened?"

"No use asking me. I've got other things on my plate to worry about," Moody grunted. He rubbed a hand over his battered face and sighed, "They kept it very quiet. I don't reckon he wanted her to tell me,"

"But she did?"

 _She told you and not me?_ Ted thought sadly.

"Yes," said Moody.

"She's really upset about it," Ted murmured.

"Hmmph,"

"I don't think it ended well,"

"I can't tell you where he is, if that's what you're asking," Mad-Eye stated.

Ted didn't know what to say to that.

"There's not a lot I _can_ tell you, apart from that he's a good man and your daughter isn't an idiot,"

"No, of course not," Ted mumbled.

"Well. Goodbye," said Moody abruptly. He got to his feet and stumped away.

* * *

The old Auror was right. Ted's daughter wasn't stupid. But she also wasn't the type to get hysterical about boyfriends. She wasn't a miserable person, but she'd been like this for two months now. Perhaps Ted didn't know her at all. That evening, as Andromeda walked through the front door, asked him their security questions, and pecked him on the cheek, Ted couldn't help but remember Cygnus. Was this how Dromeda's father had felt about Ted himself all those years ago? But blood beliefs were ridiculous and dated and had no ground in truth. Werewolves _were_ dangerous. It wasn't prejudice or superstition, it was fact. Even when not transformed they were feral and savage. But Lupin had been Sirius' friend- but look at how reckless Sirius was, Ted thought- yes, but he wasn't stupid- no, he was drawn to danger- danger, not darkness- but- but Sirius was gone.

"Ted?" called Dromeda from the kitchen, "I asked if you wanted a tea?"

"No, thanks," he replied. He racked his brain, trying to remember what Lupin had been like when he'd come over with Sirius when they were younger. Ted didn't have a good memory for things like that, and while he could picture the Lupin boy _being_ here, he couldn't remember anything he'd said or done. Which, Ted acknowledged, confirmed that Lupin hadn't said or done or anything werewolf-like.

Andromeda stuck her head around the door. "Something's bothering you, I can tell,"

"Just thinking about Snape teaching Defence at Hogwarts," Ted lied. He'd always hated lying to Andromeda.

"Why are you thinking about that?"

"Wondering whether Dora'll bump into him. He never liked her,"

"As far as I'm aware he doesn't like anybody," Dromeda pointed out, leaning on the doorframe, "She sees him at Order meetings and it's all alright. And it's not like you to fret?"

She was right, it wasn't. But now, Ted thought dejectedly, it seemed that there were a great number of things to fret about.

* * *

Christmas was a gloomy affair. They went to Ted's brother Bobby as usual, where Dora usually entertained Bobby's kids by messing with her nose and hair. But this year when little Megan demanded the game the kids called Dora's Faces, Ted's daughter shrugged, said, "Sorry, not this year," and sipped her Buck's fizz dejectedly.

After Christmas Dinner, she volunteered to do the washing up. Since that had never happened in living memory, Ted suspected it was an excuse to get away from everybody.

"I don't know what's wrong with her," Dromeda said, back at home that evening after Dora had slunk off to bed, "It's been nearly half a year. Merlin knows I'm upset about Sirius, but..."

She looked at Ted, expecting an answer. He didn't know what to tell her. _She's heartbroken over her significantly older werewolf ex-boyfriend_ would not go down well with Andromeda.

"You don't suppose she's ill, do you?" Dromeda suggested suddenly.

"Don't be daft. She passed her Ministry medical in April,"

"That was before this happened. I should write to Mad-Eye..."

Ted winced. "Mad-Eye would have told us if there was something to worry about," he insisted, unsure if this counted as a lie.

"Of course there's something to worry about!" Dromeda snapped, "This isn't _her_ , and it's been months now. It's all happening again, it's started all over again,"

"What?"

"The war!" Andromeda shouted.

"This time's different,"

"Different because our daughter's on the front line. She's nearly died already-" Dromeda caught herself mid-sentence, realising something, "Do you reckon that's what this is about? Bella?"

"I don't know," said Ted. He didn't like to think about Bellatrix Lestrange, and he found it disturbing that after all these years and everything she'd done, Andromeda still called her "Bella" and referred to her as her sister.

"Yes you do, Ted, you _do_ know. She wants us all dead," Dromeda insisted. She'd always stated the truth bluntly, however much nobody else wanted to hear it. Andromeda hated denial.

Dromeda shut her eyes, leaned her head back against the wall and held her hand out for Ted to grasp onto. He did.

"I can't do this," she breathed, shaking, "I can't do this all over again".

* * *

 _Dad,_

 _Sorry for being such a misery-guts over Christmas. R was at the Ws and M invited me to come over, but I said no, but I kept thinking about him. I promise he isn't dangerous. Please believe me. I miss him so much. M says he misses me too which makes it worse. To be honest I feel totally terrible at the moment. As if that wasn't blindingly obvious. I'm very worried about him. Please don't worry about me. I'm enclosing a card for Megan and the boys to say sorry for being so boring on Christmas Day. Please can you send it to them through the Muggle post, because there isn't a postbox up here, or anywhere to buy stamps._

 _Lots of love_

 _Dora xx._

* * *

Winter slid into Spring. Frost on the ground melted, disappeared for a few weeks, then returned. Manchester City stayed top of the league, but the Ballycastle Bats lost three matches in a row, which meant that Ted just about broke even on his bets. One of Andromeda's Muggle-born colleagues received a Stinksap envelope and had to spend a day in St Mungo's. Ted tried repeatedly to explain to Andromeda the workings of the upcoming Muggle election. The oldest of the Macmillan's granddaughters announced she was remarrying a Ghanaian gold-dealer. One of Arthur Weasley's sons was poisoned. According to Dora, Harry Potter saved his life.

"With a Beozor," she explained, "Shoved it in his gob, Ron was lucky to survive,"

She was picking at her food on the Sunday night of a weekend visit home in April. She looked the same as when Ted had last seen her a month prior. He was starting to wonder if the brown hair was a permanent fixture. He missed the pink.

"And this was in Horace Slughorn's office?" Dromeda asked.

Dora nodded. The story seemed very strange to Ted, but strange things were always happening to the Weasleys and Harry Potter.

Andromeda must have been thinking the same thing because she ejaculated, "Is Potter their saviour or their bad luck charm?"

Dora looked up sharply. " _Mum,_ "

"He attracts danger, doesn't he? I'm sure he's a nice boy, but he's putting Molly Weasley to a lot of effort,"

"Molly likes going to effort. She's been good to me," Dora responded. Ted suspected that he heard a jab at Andromeda in this proclamation.

"Slughorn's teaching Potions again?" he said loudly, trying to steer the subject away from an argument, "How's that going?"

"Alright, I've heard," said Dora, "It's been more than half a year now. Can't be worse than Snape, can he?"

Last year, Ted thought sadly, she'd have asked him and Dromeda both about what Slughorn had been like when he'd taught them. She'd have been keen for funny stories and gossip about the Hogwarts newcomer. Now, she looked back down at her plate and continued jabbing aimlessly at her Yorkshire pudding.

"No," agreed Ted, and the three of them lapsed into silence. Ted could feel Andromeda's irritated, nonplussed gaze on him but he ignored it- there was nothing he could say to her in front of Dora that would help the situation, and so the only sound for a few minutes was their chewing and the scrape of cutlery. Quiet was unusual in this house, and it made Ted uneasy.

"Nymphadora, are you going to eat that or not?" demanded Andromeda abruptly.

Dora looked up, and it was clear from her expression that she hadn't given her dinner any consideration. "Err, yeah," she muttered.

Most of the habits and rules from Dromeda's childhood had faded since she eloped with Ted twenty-six years ago, but her stickling for table manners always popped up when she was irritated. Ted had stayed at home to look after Dora when she was small, but on the occasions it had been Andromeda's turn to run dinnertime, she'd constantly nag their daughter to sit up straight, keep her elbows off the table, clear her plate, don't talk with her mouth full, don't eat with her mouth open. These rules always snuck back in when Dromeda was cross.

"It's alright," said Ted quickly, "We can wrap it in foil and you can heat it up tomorrow if you want,"

"Alright. Thanks," said Dora, but it was clear she wasn't listening.

Ted shot a _please shut up_ look at Andromeda. His wife rarely did anything he asked her too, but she seemed to break tradition this time and she didn't speak again until they were clearing up the plates. This time, Dromeda offered to wash up, and Ted was grateful that she'd taken the hint to avoid upsetting Dora further. Although to be fair, thought Ted, Andromeda hadn't done anything _intentionally_ to distress their daughter. It was Dora who was unexpectedly sensitive and easily upset.

"You haven't heard from him, then?" Ted said, sitting down beside her on the rickety old sofa while Andromeda put the plates away next-door. He might as well address the elephant, or the werewolf, in the room.

"No, I have," Dora said.

Ted hadn't been expecting that. "Right,"

"He's come back. He wasn't getting anywhere with- with where he was, so Dumbledore ordered him home. Fat lot of good it is though- he looks like crap, he's beating himself up because he didn't get everything Dumbledore wanted done, and he doesn't want to talk to me,"

Ted felt relieved that Lupin was back from wherever he'd been. That was some sort of improvement, and at least Dora knew where he was. "Have you spoken to him?" Ted asked.

"Yeah. Total humiliation. I got angry at him, and he doesn't _get_ angry so I looked like an idiot,"

"But you know he's safe," Ted suggested.

Dora didn't reply. Ted hated her being silent like this. He tried a different tack. It was something he'd been ruminating on since he'd spoken to Mad-Eye.

"Listen, I've been thinking," Ted admitted, considering how to word this next sentence, "I've been wondering the last few months, about Hagrid and things. And I've read a about werewolves. And I- I want you to know that I'm okay with this. With what he is. I can't pretend I'm happy about it, and it's certainly not what I'd choose for you, but if he's been here before and we didn't even know that he was a….honestly, if you're this unhappy now, he must have made you very happy before. And-"

The words _if you're happy I'm happy_ died in Ted's throat. He couldn't say something as sentimental as that. He compromised with, "And I want you to be happy". _I want my daughter back, and if her loving a werewolf if what it takes, then that's what it takes_. It hadn't been easy to decide, and it felt strange to confirm it out loud. Ted wasn't completely sure if he meant it.

Ted had hoped that his acceptance would cheer Dora up. It didn't. She nodded thoughtfully, flicked her brown hair out of her face and sighed, "Thanks, Dad. But it doesn't make any difference".


	34. First

First

He was nervous the first time.

Nervous that he hadn't done this with a woman in a long while.

(He hadn't counted the years).

Nervous that he'd touch her too hard or too soft or in the wrong places.

Nervous it'd happen too slow or too quickly.

(Sirius would laugh his head off).

Nervous that she wouldn't enjoy it.

(He didn't think she was the sort of woman to pretend she had to make him feel better. That was one of the things he liked about her).

He doubted that her expectations were high, but even then he supposed that he'd disappoint her.

* * *

He was nervous that in undressing him she'd see just how tattered his clothes were.

("For God's sake, Remus," groaned Sirius, "Let me buy you some new t-shirts,").

Nervous about his puny arms and narrow chest.

Nervous about how gaunt he was.

("Have another pasty," ordered Molly as she shoved one onto his plate).

Nervous about the nicks on his arms-

(Sirius insisted on buying him Wolfsbane, but even a tame wolf's claws are sharp and hulking).

-and the bruises on his shoulders.

(The wolf's scapula burst through his skin and his arms contorted horribly into the wolf's front legs and it _hurt, it_ _hurt_ ).

He was nervous that she'd see all this and pity him, and pity from her was one thing he couldn't stand.

* * *

He was nervous about her seeing the angry red bite-mark at the top of his left arm.

("Mummy! Mummy!").

(Sirius' head appeared over the top of the shower cubicle, "Let's see the bite, then,").

(He's sobbing and writhing and there's blood and fur and vomit all over his bed).

("I thought it'd be bigger than that, Moony,").

( _"Mummy!")._

* * *

He was nervous that once they'd started she'd realise what she was doing with what he was and that she'd be repulsed.

(He wouldn't blame her).

Nervous at seeing the horror and fear in her eyes.

Nervous that she'd shove him away and scream at him for trying to taint her like this.

He half-hoped that she did. It would spare him the agony of falling for her harder.

* * *

He managed to mumble some of this, part of this, very little of this, when it happened the first time.

(He knew her bedroom would be a mess).

Sprawled on the bed, she was beside him kissing his neck and fumbling with his shirt buttons, guiding his hands to her breasts.

("Listen, Tonks, I…I haven't done this in a while and I don't want you to…I don't want you to think…are you _sure_ this is what you want?").

She pulled her mouth away from his neck, cocked her head and looked at him.

"Are you worried?"

"Yes," he admitted, "A bit,"

(A lot).

(She paused).

"You daft thing," she said, "It's going to be alright".

* * *

Afterwards, he wonders why he was nervous at all.


	35. Ted Talks: Part 2

**I'm chuffed at the reaction to Part 1, thank you all very much. Hope you like this follow-up, although be warned that it contains allusions to domestic violence.**

Ted Talks: Part 2

Dumbledore was dead. It was all over the papers and the radio. Dumbledore was dead at the hand of Severus Snape- although the only reason Ted knew that second part was because Dora had told him so when she'd Flooed home for a brief, frenzied half-hour the evening afterwards to assure them that she was safe. She'd been jittery and exhausted, and she was going back to work straight after coming home. There was lots to be done at Hogwarts. Nobody could believe what had happened.

"Are they _sure_ it was Snape?" Ted asked, white-faced.

"Of course we're sure. He ran past us on the stairs, Harry saw him kill him, he saw the body,"

"When's the funeral?" Dromeda demanded.

"Friday,"

"Will you be home after?"

"I don't know. Nobody knows. It's madness".

* * *

 _Dad,_

 _Everything's fine but need to speak urgently. Is Mum still going to Poker on Sundays, if yes can I Floo over while she's out? All fine. Funeral OK. You've probably seen pictures by now._

 _Dora._

Ted gripped the letter in his hands and waited. He'd replied to confirm that Andromeda would be out from eleven until two, and Dora could come over any time then. It was eleven-thirty now and she hadn't turned up, which wasn't surprising, but Ted didn't want to wait in for her all day. He wasn't sure if he should be concerned- her letter had said everything was fine, but in the sort of way one said it when things weren't. It wasn't just Ted's daughter who was unpredictable these days- it was the world. Dumbledore, _murdered._ It still hadn't sunk in, despite the funeral coverage all over the newspapers and the radio.

There was a clunk and then a whirring noise, and then something bright pink started materialising in mid-air in the fireplace. After a moment the pink blurred downwards into a head and a body, and Dora toppled out of the fireplace into the front room

"Wotcher, Dad. What did I get you for your wedding anniversary last year?"

"A potplant. Who is my favourite Rolling Stone?"

"Charlie Watts,"

Satisfied, Dora hugged him, smiling like he hadn't seen her smile in months. And her hair...her pink hair was _back._ Ted felt even more perplexed.

"Hello, sweetheart. How was the funeral?" he asked, letting go of her. Dora's smile disappeared abruptly.

"Everybody cried buckets. The weather was beautiful but it was so _sad,"_

 _"_ I've seen the photos- the centaurs came, didn't they?"

"And the merepeople. So many people. But, listen, Dad, I need to tell you something". Her voice was urgent but she was beaming again. This was very strange.

"Yes. Okay," Ted nodded, unsure what to feel or prepare for.

"I'm getting married,"

Ted stared at her. He hadn't known what he'd been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been that.

"Remus and I are getting married next week. It's fantastic _,_ isn't it, it's all happened so quickly and I-" Dora chirped.

Finding his voice, Ted cut her off. "What? _Married?_ Next week?". She had to be joking. This was a trick, this was a daft joke and she was going to laugh herself silly at him in a minute.

"I know it's a shock, it was for me. We only agreed to at the funeral. Isn't it _wonderful?_ " she sighed dreamily.

"You're kidding. Very funny, now what it is you really want to tell me?" said Ted, rolling his eyes. Perhaps she was trying to cheer him up after the news about Dumbledore.

Dora shook her head but didn't stop smiling, "Not kidding. Not a joke. I'd show you an engagement ring only we haven't sorted one out yet,"

Ted goggled at her again.

"For real, Dad. This is happening. I am marrying Remus Lupin next week and I want you to come,"

"Next _week?"_ Ted echoed.

"Yes. Probably Scotland. I wanted a big do, but there isn't much time and he doesn't want a fuss. I don't even know if you'll have to give me away, but that's all a bit stupid, isn't it, Dad? Dad?"

She wasn't joking, and it was sinking in now. Getting married? Dora? Next week? She hadn't...she'd been heartbroken over this man all year and now all of a sudden they were getting _married?_

"You're happy, aren't you? You'll come?" Dora was saying.

"Yes. Yes, of course we'll- I- give me a minute," Ted stammered, moving to the sofa to sit down, "I suppose I should say congratulations," he added, because her elated expression had faltered into concern.

"Thanks, Dad. It's so exciting. It's amazing, he's amazing. Everything's sad and crazy, and then this has happened and it's..." she tailed off, glowing.

"Are you sure about this?" Ted asked. The grin was back, and the slight hysteria in her face was disconcerting.

"A hundred percent. A million percent. You know how much I missed him, Dad, and now I'm going to _marry_ him,"

"But...next week?" Ted spluttered again. Seven days was no time to plan a wedding, even a quiet one. Surely she was busy at Hogwarts and with the Order?

"We've wasted so much time," she explained, "Over a year. We're not going to wait anymore,"

The repeated Ws forced another thought into Ted's mind: "And you're...he's still a, you know- a werewolf,"

Dora's mouth tightened into a line. She folded her arms and eyeballed him. "Yes. He is,"

"And you're _sure?_ You're absolutely sure- look, can't I meet this man before you run off to Scotland to marry him?" Ted asked. He'd promised her he was alright with it but he hadn't expected _this_ to happen. Could he be alright with this? Would Andromeda? Would anybody?

"We're not running off. That's _you two_ who did that. Which is why I'm here, inviting you to our wedding," Dora said stiffly, "I want him to come round here tomorrow. For dinner. And I want you to be nice to him,"

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah. You'll see, Dad, you'll see what he's really like. I promise you'll like him, I promise you don't have anything to be afraid of,"

"Right. I- well, if it's- yes, of okay. Of course we'll have him over,"

Ted looked at his daughter, sitting beside him pink-haired and ecstatic, jiggling her legs excitedly.

"Just one thing, Dora," he added nervously, "How on Earth are we going to tell your mother?".

* * *

The conversation with Andromeda was one which Ted would have preferred to forget, but knew he never would.

* * *

"Hello!" Ted chirped, and winced at his overly cheery voice.

"Hello, Mr Tonks. I'm Remus. It's very nice to meet you,"

The man standing on the porch was a little taller than Ted and a lot thinner. He was wearing a shabby grey suit and a moth-eaten burgundy jumper, and holding a bunch of white flowers. Dora was standing beside him bouncing nervously on the toes of her neon yellow Dr Martens. The man didn't look like he'd ever owned anything neon yellow in his life. He held out his hand to shake in a manner which, like his greeting, seemed rehearsed.

Ted plastered on a smile as rehearsed as the other man's. "Hello, Remus. Pleased to meet you, too,"

They shook hands and, Ted noted, Remus' palms weren't hairy. Ted stepped side to allow them both into the house (it seemed an uncomfortable thing to do for your daughter, but probably not the most uncomfortable thing that would happen this evening) and led the way into the sitting room. Andromeda was sitting on the far side of the sofa staring out of the window as if trying to memorise the view. She'd tied her dark hair up in a tight bun, which reminded Ted of Professor McGonagall.

"Good evening, Mrs Tonks," said Remus, in the same practised tone, "Lovely to meet you,"

Andromeda didn't move. "Hello," she said tightly. Ted saw Dora's smile flicker.

"You didn't ask a security question," Andromeda said to Ted.

"I did the common room knock on the front door," Dora interjected. Then there was silence.

"Remus has bought some flowers, isn't that nice," he said loudly (goodness, it wasn't going to be like this all evening, was it? He didn't know if he could handle constantly changing the subject away from Remus' condition and Dromeda's disapproval), "Peonies, Dromeda, your favourite,"

Ted had no idea if the flowers were peonies, or if peonies were his wife's favourite flower. "I'll get a vase," he declared, "Would anybody like a drink?"

"You've got that white wine Uncle Bobby bought at Christmas, don't you?" said Dora.

"Yes, excellent. Remus?"

"Yes please, Mr Tonks," said Remus timidly.

"Dromeda?"

"Yes," she snipped.

Ted escaped to the kitchen, performed a cooling spell in the wine bottle, uncorked it and poured four glasses. After a moment's consideration, he drained one glass and refilled it for himself. He was going to need all the help he could get tonight.

* * *

"Remus taught Shay Kelly's little brother," Dora announced, "You remember him, Mum, he couldn't say his Rs properly. Bit unfortunate considering his name was Rory,"

"Hmm," said Andromeda. She hadn't might eye contact with anybody all evening.

"He was a lovely lad," Remus nodded, gulping down a chunk of chicken. Andromeda had refused to cook this evening, leaving Ted to sort out the food. His wife was considerably better in the kitchen than he was, so tonight's dinner was chewy and soggy. From the look of Remus Lupin though, Ted suspected that he'd eaten a lot worse.

"And did _he_ know you were a werewolf?" Andromeda asked.

"Mum," growled Dora.

Ted stiffened, ready for an explosion from either end of the table.

"No," said Remus mildly, "None of the students knew,"

He had a soft, gruff voice with a slight accent. He was so polite it was almost unnerving, and he was managing to deflect Andromeda's sub-zero coldness with surprising dignity.

"Well they all know _now,_ don't they?" Andromeda insisted.

"Yes,"

"So do you think it was a good idea, then, keeping it a-"

Dora interrupted before Ted could.

"That was three years ago, it's none of your business," she snapped.

"If he's marrying you I think it's definitely my business,"

"Dromeda-" said Ted quietly.

"Mum-"

"I was advised that discretion was the best policy, although in hindsight perhaps that was rather naive," said Remus.

"Advised by who? The Werewolves In Schools Council?" Dromeda taunted.

"By Dumbledore, actually,"

That shut everyone up.

* * *

Andromeda stormed off after Dora and Remus left and was pretending unconvincingly to be asleep by the time Ted had come up later. He'd left her to it, and she'd got up early for work the following morning and found some errands to run after. Lying in bed together that night was the first time Ted had had a chance to speak to his wife properly since the marriage bombshell had exploded. Except they weren't speaking to each other. Andromeda was glaring at the ceiling in pointed silence.

"Dromeda," Ted prompted, "Talk to me,"

She huffed. "What is there to _say?"_

"Well, what did you think of him?"

"I believe I made that clear," Andromeda said coldly.

"You made it clear to him, at great upset to your daughter. But what about _me._ Come on, tell me, honestly,"

Dromeda pushed her hair out of her eyes. It always spilt across her face at night, and Ted usually liked seeing her disordered like that. Then she sighed. "Well, he's clearly as poor as a church mouse. He was very clinical. He looks older than you, and you're her father. And he turns into a monster every few weeks. How's that, Ted? How's _that?"_

"He wasn't clinical," said Ted, after a pause, thinking that this was the point he had the most chance of persuading her against, "He was being polite,"

"Polite, my cauldron bottom. You know what werewolves are like; foraging in bins, eating roadkill off the floor, living in woods and squats,"

"Dromeda, the man we met last night struck me as the type of person who doesn't know what a squat _is,"_

"Where d'you suppose he lives?" she pushed, half disdain, half lurid fascination.

"He's staying in one of Kingsley's safehouses until he moves in with Dora,"

"Silly me, I forgot _you_ know everything about him," Dromeda snarled.

"No, I don't. I met him yesterday, same as you,"

"But you've keen keeping this a secret for _months._ I was worrying myself sick about her and-"

"Can you blame her for wanting to keep it a secret if this is your reaction?"

Andromeda rolled over in bed to face him. "Ted, can you honestly say you're pleased about this?"

"Of course I'm not pleased! Of course I'd prefer her to marry someone with a job and a house and a sickle to his name. Of course I'd prefer not to have been at school with my son-in-law. Of course I'd prefer him not to be a-" Ted cut himself off.

"She's not here, Ted. You can say it," Dromeda challenged, "Say you know he's a monster, he's a freak. We're going to have to spend the rest of our lives trying not to say it in front of Nymphadora, I think we can allow ourselves the liberty of being honest about it when she isn't here,"

"Mad-Eye said he's a nice man," Ted pointed out for what felt like the fiftieth time in twenty-four hours, "You trust Mad-Eye, don't you?"

"Of course, but- how do we know he isn't dangerous? How do we know he's not going to jilt her in five minutes' time?". Andromeda, Ted noted, still refused to call Remus by his name.

"Look, I know exactly what you're thinking because I've been through this all as well," he told her, "I've had months to digest this and you've only had a couple of days. But in the months I've had to fret about it I didn't expect him to be half as pleasant as the man we met last night,"

There was a point, Ted knew, to be made about himself and Dromeda, and everything their family had thought about him. But Dora had made that point several times in increasingly pointed and furious ways, so Ted didn't think it was worth pushing.

"He'll show his true colours sooner or later," Andromeda warned, then her voice changed, melting into a frightened shudder as she whispered, "I kept seeing him hurting her,"

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn't stop imagining it. Couldn't you? She didn't tell me about him before, what if she doesn't again? You know she can morph away bruises,"

"Dromeda, have you forgotten that our daughter is an Auror?" Ted pointed out. He glanced sideways at her, and then back up at the eves.

"But he'll know how to duel too,"

"Why don't you speak to Mad-Eye? If I can't reassure you perhaps he can,"

"Hmm," Dromeda mumbled. There was silence for a moment, and then she said abruptly, "What _on Earth_ do you suppose they talk about? They've got nothing in common,"

"The Order's pretty all-encompassing,"

"He doesn't talk like her. He doesn't dress like her. He doesn't look as if he likes any of things that she likes,"

"One minute you're scared he's a violent lunatic and now you reckon he's too boring," Ted said wearily.

"He can be both," Andromeda snapped, "Why are you so naïve?"

She'd hissed that to him a lot, back when they were teenagers and he didn't realise what the Blacks were like. He'd often wondered, then, how long it would be before her patience with him wore too thin.

It was Ted who needed patience now. "You're determined to expect the worst of him," he sighed.

"It's not expecting. I know. I _know,"_ Dromeda hissed.

 _We're going round in circles,_ Ted thought exasperatedly. He held out his arm to her.

"Hey. Come here,"

Dromeda huffed and looked irritated, but shuffled up to him anyway.

"It'll be alright. You and I always work things out, don't we?" Ted coaxed, kissing her on the forehead.

Andromeda didn't reply.

* * *

Ted rapped on the inn room door.

"Come in," said a hoarse Welsh voice.

Ted opened the door and stepped inside. The man who would be his son-in-law in an hour's time was standing in front of the mirror in a black suit (which was sharper, Ted observed, than anything he would have expected Remus to own). He'd already put on his jacket and tie, but only had socks on his feet.

"Hello, Ted," said Remus.

"Wotcher. You look nice," said Ted, then grimaced at the stupid compliment. To change the subject, he pulled two pint-bottles of Firewhiskey from his pocket and handed one to Remus.

"Thought you might fancy one of these," he said.

Remus took it, thanked him, and both men performed uncapping spells on their bottles before taking a swig. Ted swallowed and wondered what to say. Remus didn't supply a conversation-starter, so Ted commented vaguely, "Nice place, this,"

"Yes,"

"Have you been here before?"

"Nearby. On holiday when I was a boy," said Remus. He hesitated, then said, "My mother thought it very pretty"

"Pretty cold," Ted joked feebly.

"Yes, I suppose," Remus agreed. Ted got the impression he wanted to say something else, but he didn't, and they lapsed into silence. Ted looked out of the window for a moment, then back at Remus. He wondered if the man in front of him was goodlooking or not. Dora probably thought him the most handsome man in the world, and Andromeda believed him the vilest. Ted knew that the truth was somewhere between, but he wasn't sure where. Remus was, as far as Ted could see, rather plain. He was the sort of man one would walk past on the street without glancing at.

The silencing was threatening to smother them. "Been to any other weddings recently?" Ted asked.

"Not for a long time. But Bill Weasley's is on the first of August,"

"Oh yes. I expect Molly's making a song and dance about that". Ted hoped this observation would get a smile out of Remus, and it worked because the other man chuckled.

"You're probably right,"

Another silence descended, although this one was slightly more companiable than before.

"Thank you for this," said Remus unexpectedly, holding up his bottle, "And thank you very much for coming today. I know this isn't..." he tailed off embrassedly.

 _This isn't what?_ thought Ted _, Ideal? Good timing? As much fun as the Wealsley wedding will be? The sort of wedding I would want for my only child? The sort of_ groom _I'd want for my only child?_ All of the above, and Ted would be lying if he said that this all wasn't a disappointment.

"No, it isn't," Ted acknowledged. He glanced up at Remus, who was looking at him through the mirror with a guilty expression on his face. _You're not like they say you are,_ Ted thought _, you're not like Dromeda believes you are. You're alright_.

"But let's concentrate on what it is, eh son?" he said.

* * *

"Wonder how the Weasleys are getting on," Ted remarked to from behind his newspaper. It was a couple of weeks later, a few days after Harry Potter had crash-landed in their garden with Hagrid and a dead owl. Ted and Andromeda had got them away safely and received word that Nymphadora and Remus were safe too, but that Mad-Eye Moody had been killed. Ted knew that Dora would be taking Mad-Eye's death hard, and it stung a bit that she hadn't been round to see them since. She had her husband for comfort now, Ted supposed. It was hard to imagine that the old Auror was dead; he'd seemed indestructible. Missing half his face but still hard as nails. Ted had felt safer about Dora at work knowing she was with Mad-Eye.

"I heard they've invited Xeno Lovegood- imagine," Dromeda laughed. It was a cruel, mocking laugh which reminded Ted that although his wife had appeared to have lightened up in the last few days, she was ready to flare up at a moment's notice.

"His daughter's friends with Ginny and what's-his-name, the youngest boy," Ted explained.

"George?"

"No, George is one of the twins I think,"

"Ah yes, you're right. Gosh, there's so many of them it's difficult to keep track of-"

BANG!

The end of Andromeda's sentence was lost under the sound of a shout from outside, as the front door was blasted off its hinges.

* * *

 **To be continued. Thank you for reading, please drop me a review. Andromeda didn't come across so sympathetically in this chapter, so if you'd like to see a more generous depiction of her, please check out Chapter 9 of my story _Magpies._ Thanks a lot.**


	36. Spaghetti

Spaghetti

He's known for a while that he has to tell her, but he isn't sure how. It's not exactly the sort of thing you bring up when you're over at your girlfriend's, is it? (Remus isn't entirely sure that Tonks _is_ his girlfriend. It certainly feels like that but they haven't used those words for it: girlfriend, boyfriend, couple, item, dating. He doesn't know how to ask about that either). Sometimes he suspects that Tonks might have an inkling about it already, but if she does she's waiting for Remus to mention it first. So on Monday evening when she's over at his cottage, wolfing down the carbonara he's made (he likes cooking for her. He likes it when she comes home from work, pecks his cheek and sits down to dinner at his kitchen table. He likes the domesticity and normalcy of it, especially as so little else about them _can_ be normal), he forces himself to say it out loud.

"I need to tell you something. I don't believe it's a bad thing but you might find it a bit strange,"

Tonks gulps down her mouthful of pasta. "Fire away,"

Remus looks at her, sitting opposite him in her tight black t-shirt and her purple hair, with her Auror robes draped on the back of the chair.

"When we were at school Sirius and I used to mess about," he says, cringing at his own evasiveness, "You know. Together,"

Tonks picks up her fork and sighs disinterestedly. "Well, _yeah._ Course you did,"

He nearly chokes on his pasta. "You _knew?"_

"Sirius told me,"

Remus balks. He'd suspected that she suspected, but he hadn't expected this. "What? _When?"_

"About five minutes after the first Order meeting I came to," she says, smiling wickedly.

"Bastard," he hisses, and Tonks laughs.

"You don't mind, do you?" Remus adds, "We were teenagers, it was just-" Just what, exactly? Experimentation? Lust? Boredom? A joke that got out of hand? Finding someone who'd known him long enough and well enough not be revolted by what he is? "Just teenagers," he repeats.

Tonks swallows her next mouthful (she eats distractedly loudly, he's noticed), and says, "Will it make you feel better if I tell you that I was madly in love with him at about the same time,"

"Pardon?"

"Come _on,_ you were obviously thinking it about him too. I was a little kid and he was my mad cousin who turned up unannounced, riding a motorbike and reeking of fags," she leaves a beat, then adds, "My taste in men has sophisticated since then,"

"I noticed," Remus grins, wondering if this is flirting. The thought makes him feel giddy.

"Don't tell him I told you or I'll never hear the end of it,"

"He told you about _us,"_ Remus points out, but only to wind her up. He and Sirius have already had enough trouble with him thinking Tonks is in love with Padfoot. He's not about to open that can of worms again.

"That's different. _I_ was a seven-year-old. You two were an actual item,"

The word surprises him. "Is that what Sirius said?" Remus asks, trying not to balk again.

"Dunno. That's what I thought he meant,"

"Umm. No. I wouldn't say that we were. We didn't go on dates or anything. I can't remember if I actually-" Remus cuts himself off, confused.

"Fancied him? It's alright, Remus, you can say it,"

"Yes, then. I don't remember if I actually fancied Sirius,"

Tonks hooks her foot between his, pins him with a look and says, "But you fancy me,"

 _Nymphadora, I fancy you to death._ He runs his toe up the back of her calf.

"So, how d'you two end?" Tonks asks, after a moment of doing what Remus can only, madly, describe as gazing at him. She drains her glass and continues, "I imagine he wanted to go up in flames and you wanted to back away quietly,"

"Not really. We just...stopped,"

"Disappointing. I was hoping you crashed and burned,"

"Did he tell you that as well?"

"No, but you know what he's like. Always has to make a show of things,"

But Padfoot hadn't made a show of him and Remus. It had been private and tender and nice. Just nice. They hadn't pretended it was anything other than what it was, whatever it had been. Sirius is more understated and sensible than most people give him credit for, especially nowadays.

"Hmm," Remus murmurs, feeling suddenly morose, and stabbing aimlessly at his pasta.

"Remus?"

He looks up and forces another smile, but she doesn't buy it.

"You know I'm joking, right? Of course I don't mind,"

"No. I wasn't thinking about that," he admits. If it were almost anybody else asking he'd change the subject, but he often finds himself telling the truth to Tonks when he hadn't been expecting to.

"How old were you when he went to prison?" Remus asks, "Eight?" (It's not a guess- he knows, because he always knows how much younger she is than him because it's always so glaringly stark). She nods.

"D'you remember it?"

She nods.

"It's fine, you don't have to tell me-"

"Mum was awful. She cried loads and she was really angry. It was weird and confusing. I kept asking why we couldn't visit him,"

Remus nods thoughtfully. Weird and confusing- she's right.

"I think the two people it was worst on was you and my Mum," Tonks observes.

"And Sirius," Remus points out.

"Yeah, obviously. Come on, let's talk about something else- he'd kill himself laughing if he knew you and me were sitting around on date night talking about him,"

 _You don't know what he'd do,_ Remus thinks, _you don't know him because he disappeared when you were eight._

"Alright," he sighs.

Tonks reaches over, gives his hand a single tight squeeze, and announces, "I fell down some stairs today,"

She always tells him daft stories like this to cheer him up.

"Oh?"

"Right in the entrance hall. Crashed into one of the clerks and spilt ink all over her- total fiasco,"

"Of course you did," Remus smirks, "What did she say?"

"Dunno, I legged it," Tonks shrugs, and inexplicably, something about her tone makes Remus' heart flutter.

"Tonks, that's terrible," he reprimands.

"I was in rush! That's why I tripped in the first place, I was _running,"_

"So you left this poor woman covered in ink?"

"Not _covered,"_ she protests, "Only on her hands. And her shirt. And her shoes. Which makes it probably the least-disastrous day this month," she finishes.

He loves that she knows exactly how to time a punchline. Before they were together Remus had to try not to laugh too much at her jokes, but now they're...now they're what? In an undefined state where he allows himself to laugh with her properly? That's stupid and he knows it, and he hears himself blurt, "Are you my girlfriend?"

Carefully, Tonks puts her cutlery down. In the momentary silence Remus panics that he's misunderstood and she's going to yell at him to get out, that kisses and cuddling and dinner are fine, but putting on a label on it is a step too far and how dare he be so presumptuous and-

"Why don't you ask me?" Tonks replies, looking him in the eye.

"I am asking," Remus points out.

"No, why don't you ask me to be your girlfriend," she says. And she winks.

"Well, I don't know what you're going to say,"

"Won't know if you don't ask,"

He thinks this is good. She can't be insulted by the question if she's teasing him like this. "Nymphadora, will you be my girlfriend?"

There's a pause. Then she grins. "Yeah, you daft thing. Of course I'm your girlfriend,"

That was easier than he anticipated. It feels a bit anticlimactic now. "Right. Good. I'm your boyfriend then," Remus says awkwardly, testing the word out and finding that, unsurprisingly, it sounds ridiculous. For a start because he's an old man, not a boy, and because "boyfriend" makes him think of James, of Gid Prewett, of all the men he knows more suited to being anybody's boyfriend than he is.

"That's what I've been telling people when they ask," Tonks shrugs.

He looks up sharply, "I thought we agreed not to-"

" _A_ boyfriend, I say I have _a_ boyfriend. I don't go telling everybody your name, address and vault number,"

"Alright, alright," Remus says quickly. She gets cross when he talks too much about how this has to stay private. She doesn't understand that he's trying to protect her.

Thankfully, Tonks takes the hint and changes the subject, saying, "Tell you what, though,"

"What?"

She scoops up another forkful of pasta, "If you weren't Sirius' boyfriend and you _are_ mine, that's something I've _definitely_ beaten him on".

* * *

 **Thank you for your time. If you'd like more about Sirius and Tonks growing up, please check out my story _Boy._ Thanks, and have a fun weekend.**


	37. Ted Talks: Part 3

**The final instalment of this three-parter. Warnings for language and violence.**

Ted Talks: Part 3

Dromeda got to her feet first. She was slow and shaky, and had to drag herself up using the side of the armchair, which the Death Eaters had kicked over gleefully as they forced their way in.

"What are you doing?" Ted croaked. He was sprawled on the floor, blood trickling from his split lip down to his chin. His head throbbed and he felt a stabbing pain in his elbows and knuckles. He could barely believe what had just happened.

"Sending Pylon," Andromeda answered, and she whistled for their owl. Pylon had taken cover outside when the Death Eaters barged into the house, and he fluttered nervously back in through the smashed window. The barn owl glanced between Andromeda and Ted, concerned.

"It's alright, it's alright," Andromeda assured Pylon, and the reassurance in her voice made Ted want to cry, "Give me my wand, will you?"

The Death Eaters had disarmed Ted and Dromeda, and for an awful moment Ted had thought that the Death Eaters were going to snap their wands. But the intruders had tossed them aside disinterestedly. They'd come for Ted and Andromeda, not for their wands.

Pylon flew over to where Dromeda's wand had landed, picked it up in his mouth, flew back to her and dropped the wand into her outstretched hand.. Quivering, Andromeda summoned parchment and a quill and tried to start writing.

"Ted, I can't do it, my hand's trembling," she said after a couple of attempts at getting ink on the page. A fat tear rolled down from her eye.

"I'll see if I can," said Ted, attempting to push his shoulders and spine up off the carpet. His muscles protested at the movement as, wincing, he crawled over to Andromeda .

"Who are you writing to?" he asked.

"The Macmillans. We'll have to tell Dora as well, won't we? Oh Merlin it's happened, Ted, it's _happened"._ She shoved the parchment and quill at him frustratedly, and crumpled on the floor.

* * *

You could say a lot of things about Ted Tonks' daughter, but you'd be hard-pushed to claim that she wasn't good in a crisis. An hour after Pylon had disappeared into the sky, when Ted and Dromeda had managed to haul themselves onto the sofa and were clinging onto each other tightly, Dora barged into the house yelping that this was the soonest she could get there because interrogation at the Burrow had gone on for hours. She clattered into the living room, still in the dress she'd worn to the Weasley wedding, looked at them both for a searching, painful moment, batted a tear away from her eye and said, "Right. Right. Let's get you two upstairs". She and Remus levitated Ted and Andromeda into their bed, treated their wounds and put the vandalised furniture back in order. Upon discovering that the only sleeping draught in the house was out of date, Dora had sped off into the kitchen to brew more, leaving Remus upstairs with Andromeda and Ted.

"There's a bruise coming there," said Remus, indicating Dromeda's jaw. Ted felt a surge of fury pulse through him when he remembered the Death Eater walloping his wife across the face.

"Where's the balm?" asked Dromeda, and when Ted handed her the jar, her still-quaking fingers couldn't get the lid off. "For goodness sake," she muttered impatiently.

Remus held his hand out. "Let me,"

Andromeda eyed him distrustfully, then dropped the jar into his hand. Remus unscrewed the cap and tried to hand the balm back to Ted. Ted took one look at the purple hue spreading across Dromeda's jaw, and he knew he couldn't touch it. He could still hear the sound of the smack, and his clumsy touch would probably make it hurt more. He shook his head and pushed the balm back to Remus.

"You do it,"

"I'm not letting _him!"_ barked Andromeda .

"I can't," Ted protested faintly, "You know it'll hurt if I do it. I don't want to do it," he added, voice cracking like a frightened child's.

"What about _him?"_ Dromeda spat, and Ted could see tears sparkling in her eyes again. She was afraid. "He'll hurt me,"

"I won't," said Remus quietly, "I've done this plenty of times on myself after..." he tailed off and said finally, "I'll be careful, Mrs Tonks".

Ted's wife looked momentarily insulted that Remus had called her by her name. Then she stared at him for another stretching, tense moment, with an expression which Ted would have identified as anger, but with fear and hurt and something unfamiliar in there too. Tears tracked their way down Andromeda's face. Finally, she exhaled, nodded, and handed over the jar. And Andromeda let her werewolf son-in-law, with his gentle, elegant fingers, spread balm across her face.

* * *

Ted slept and woke intermittently for the next couple of days. He remembered Dromeda staggering out of bed, and a drowsy conversation with Dora in which she explained that the Ministry had fallen and she wouldn't, couldn't, go back to work.

"But don't worry about that now," she'd insisted, "Me and Remus'll stay to look after you."

When Ted finally woke up properly, his cuts had scabbed over and his bones didn't feel so painful.

"We'll be fine," Dromeda told him, and Ted knew she was right.

Remus, meanwhile, had been brewing cups of tea and thanking them repeatedly for not giving the Death Eaters Harry's whereabouts.

"I'm a Black. You should know we're made of strong stuff," Andromeda told him sharply, but there was the trace of a smirk on her face when she said it. Perhaps, Ted thought, she was finally coming round to Remus Lupin. And then, the following morning, it happened. Ted and Dromeda were in bed when they heard Dora's footsteps pelt downstairs and the sound of the front door swinging open, then being slammed shut a few moments later. Footsteps scampered upstairs again and then Dora shoved open the bedroom door

"Have you seen Remus? Was he here?" she interrogated.

"No. What's happened?" asked Dromeda.

Dora took a couple of steps into the room and gripped the end of the bed. Her other hand clenched a piece of paper, crumpling the side of it.

"Nymphadora?" Andromeda prompted apprehensively.

"He's gone. Remus has gone,"

"Where? Who?" yelped Ted. The Death Eaters had come back? When? Why? Had he and Andromeda slept through it?

"I don't mean he's been taken," Dora said, and she sounded stunned and faint, "He's left,"

"Give me that," said Dromeda, holding her hand out for the paper.

Dora yanked it away. "He says our wedding was a mistake and he's realised he's got to leave for the good of me and the-"

She cut herself off and stared at the patterns on the stripey duvet cover.

"Me and the baby," she murmured, and looked up into Ted's face, "I'm pregnant,"

Ted felt his insides shrivel. _No. Oh, please no._

Andromeda's voice was like ice _._ "What?"

Dora plopped herself down on the bed by Ted's feet. "Only a few weeks. We weren't going to say anything for a while, but-"

 _"We?_ He knows? Your husband knows about this and he's up and left in the middle of the night?" Andromeda demanded.

Dora nodded. Ted felt like everything had suddenly wilted. _Oh no. Dora, you haven't…_ Pregnant, _now?_ When all this was going on and she hadn't even been married a month? How were they going to afford it? How were they going to keep the child safe? The _werewolf_ child. This would be all Christmases come at once for Bellatrix Lestrange.

"I'm sorry," Ted breathed, "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. It'll be okay, we'll sort something out, don't worry,"

But Dora didn't look like she was worrying. She nodded sadly, thoughtfully, and folded the note into her pocket. Then she climbed into bed beside Ted, and burrowed herself under the duvet.

* * *

"I told her. I warned both of you that this would happen. I knew this is what he was like. Wanted her for five minutes, and the minute things get complicated he's out the door. Merlin forbid he has to spend any _money_ on her or the baby," Andromeda slammed the wardrobe door shut and continued her diatribe.

"Or d'you think he _wanted_ to get her pregnant? That's how they make more of themselves nowadays, saves the trouble of finding victims to bite, and they get to ruin a poor woman's life in the bargain. I bet he's having a right laugh with all his little friends, ' _Cygnus Black's grandaughter knocked up with a bastard werewolf mongrel_ '. How many more ruined women and fatherless children d'you think he's got squirreled away?"

Over the last three days Ted had listened to hundreds of these rants from his wife. Dromeda seemed to accept that Dora had enough to be dealing with at the moment, so kept her tirades for when she was out of earshot, which meant that Ted had to put up with them alone. But Andromeda was right. That first morning, the only time Dora had discussed what had happened, Ted had got the impression that Remus had panicked about the pregnancy. Ted understood that- he'd been barely out his teens when Andromeda had announced that she was expecting. It wasn't planned it and it wasn't good timing, but they'd got through it _together_. They'd shared their joys and concerns. Running away wasn't panic- it was cowardice and selfishness or, as Dromeda suspected, pre-mediated malice. That sounded far-fetched, but they were dealing with a werewolf. Who knew what he was capable of? Ted was furious at himself for how easily fooled he'd been before. Remus Lupin would not receive the benefit of Ted's doubt again.

There were other things to worry about too. The day after Remus left, a letter arrived for Mr Edward Gabriel Tonks, asking him to present himself at the Muggle-Born Registration Commission in the next thirty days.

 _"Magic can only be passed on when wizards reproduce...obtained magical powers by theft...root out usurpers of magical power,"_ Ted read out loud. He ripped the letter into quarters and tossed the pieces in the fire.

"This is bonkers," declared Dora, who had been reading over his shoulder, "How can you take magic by force?"

"You can't," Ted told her, trying to sound less aghast than he felt, "It's bollocks, it's fear-mongering. I'm not signing some bloody register. Muggle-Born Registration Commission? Fuck 'em,"

"Yeah," nodded Dora grimly, "Fuck 'em".

* * *

Andromeda had gone back to work but they all agreed it was too dangerous for Ted, at least for the next few days. The Order of the Phoenix were lying low too, so Ted and Dora were left at home with their fear.

"Well, this is boring," Dora announced halfway through the second game of chess, on the third day of staying home. The hot weather had broken and it was raining outside. They'd turned the radio off to get a break from the news and the accusations about Harry.

"Snap instead?" Ted suggested.

"That's not what I meant,"

Ted had half-expected a return to the brown hair and mopiness of before but, after that first morning's shock, Dora had adopted a grim, seethingly furious attitude to Remus' departure. In fact, she'd hardly mentioned her husband or what had happened. It was perplexing, but, Ted had to admit, better than tears.

"I know," he nodded. Dora groaned irritably, and kicked the toe of her Doc Martin into the coffee table.

"Are you okay?" asked Ted, "About, you know," he hesitated, "…Remus,"

Dora kicked the table again, harder, "No, Dad, I'm thrilled about being up the duff with no job and no husband in a world which has just been taken over by Death Eaters. Absolutely chuffed," she growled, "But I've got the baby now, haven't I? Can't be falling apart again,"

In all the madness, "pregnant" had seemed more of an unfortunate condition that something which would result in a baby in eight months' time. Ted hadn't felt any excitement about his grandchild, and only a twinge of horror that he was going to become a Grandpa in his forties.

"Yes, I'm keeping it," Dora added firmly, "I know Mum wants me to get rid of it but I'm not going to,"

"Okay, okay," Ted held his hands up. He prodded his rook forward, so that two of Dora's pawns leapt forward to scale it, and the bishop started to pray. Outside, rain spattered onto the window, and the drainpipe gurgled beside it.

* * *

"Ted! Ted!"

It was Saturday, the first Saturday of this brave new world. Ted was in the loft sorting through his record collection when Andromeda yelled up the stairs. He stuck his head down through the loft trapdoor.

"Yes? Everything alright?"

"Remus is back. He's come back just now,"

Ted's first reaction was rage. His second was elation. His third was worry. "Where's Dora?"

Dromeda came into view on the landing. She was raking a hand through her dark hair and looking baffled.

"She's gone outside with him. I told her not to but she didn't listen; she never listens when it comes to that dreadful man,"

"Did he say where he's been? Did he offer any justification for leaving his pregnant wife in the night?" Ted demanded. The least Remus could give them was answers.

"Of course not," Dromeda snapped.

"Where've they gone?"

"I don't know. She'll have to come back, she didn't take anything with her,"

"They might have gone back to their flat," Ted pointed out.

 _"Her_ flat," Andromeda corrected, "Which _we_ put the deposit on and which he won't have contributed a knut to the rent,"

Being taken advantage of financially by an unemployed werewolf made Ted angry too, but that wasn't the pressing concern right now.

"One thing at a time," Ted told Dromeda, climbing down the loft ladder towards her, "We'll give it an hour and if we don't hear anything we'll send Pylon,"

"An hour? She's walking the streets with a werewolf! She's already been interrogated by Death Eaters and my sister's probably desperate to get her hands of them both,"

Ted put his hands on Dromeda's shoulders. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We'll wait _half_ an hour, then, and we'll owl her flat,"

But they only had to wait another fifteen minutes before Dora re-appeared, dripping wet on the doorstep.

"Dora, thank Merlin-"

"I'm going home," she declared.

"With Remus?" snapped Dromeda

"Yes,"

Andromeda eyed her daughter intensely. After a long pause, she said, "Nymphadora, you're a fool,"

Dora shrugged.

"Are you _sure?"_ asked Ted.

"No, to be honest. But we need to talk and we're not going to get it done anywhere else. He's tired and hungry-"

"He deserves it," Andromeda cut across, "It's not your job to feed him and wait on him. Twice he's walked out on you when he's got cold feet, what's to stop it being three? Four? Do you want your child to spend its life asking if Daddy's going to come back this time?"

"I'd prefer to give it a chance to have its dad around all the time. I'm not falling into his arms if that's what you think this is. I haven't forgiven him and I might not, and if I do I'm still going to tear him a new one,"

"Good," said Ted, "Tear him a third from me,"

Dora smirked. "I'll see you later," she promised, "Thanks for looking after me these last few days,"

"It was you looking after us," Ted pointed out.

She shrugged, "Whichever. See you soon. Bye,"

"Nymphadora-"

"Mum. Bye," she said firmly. Then she hopped down the steps and walked away down the path, clanging the gate shut behind her.

Ted and Dromeda looked at each other.

"That wastrel is going to be the death of her," Andromeda hissed.

Ted put a hand on her shoulder again. "Unless you murder him first".

* * *

August wore on. More letters came for Ted, inviting, then asking, then insisting that he report to the Muggle-Born Registration Commission. Anti-Muggle-born propaganda started appearing plastered on street corners and taking up full-page adverts in the Prophet. The Macmillan's Muggle-born housekeeper disappeared on her way home one evening. There was no way to pretend that the situation was anything other than frighteningly serious.

Bored of unemployment, Dora began applying for jobs. It was best to lie low so they were all low-paid jobs far below her ability level, which made Andromeda cross.

"It's only until the Winter," Dora insisted when she and Remus came over for dinner at the end of her first week working in a potion-bottle factory, "Or until the bump starts showing. I don't want to have to start explaining things to people,"

"And what about you?" Andromeda asked witheringly, turning to Remus, "Are _you_ going to provide for your child?"

In the weeks since he'd come back, Remus had endlessly apologised and explained why he'd left. He'd pled fear, shame, discombobulation, a misguided attempt to do the right thing. He'd hung his head, looking small and ashamed, and like an old man and a child at the same time. Remembering what he'd vowed about not giving Remus the benefit of the doubt, Ted had tried not to let his son-in-law's shame stir sympathy in him.

"I understand if you won't forgive me," Remus had said. Ted wasn't sure if he did. Andromeda definitely hadn't. Remus' return seemed to have made her more suspicious of him than his departure had, and she'd probed him with questions. Dora, who refused to discuss what had happened, had told her to drop it, and she'd made sure not to leave Remus alone in a Dromeda since. When it was Ted, Remus and Andromeda alone together (which had only happened a couple of times when Dora had gone to the toilet), Dromeda bridled, ready to attack, and Ted had had to talk loudly about the weather as a diversion.

"I've sent in some applications. Muggle jobs," Remus said timidly.

"Remus knows loads about Muggle jobs," piped up Dora, "He's really good with computers,"

"Oh, yes?" said Ted, to keep the conversation going. He'd used a computer a few times and new the basics.

"A bit," Remus shrugged.

"Arthur can't get enough of asking him about it," said Dora proudly, "D'you know he's got four TVs in his garage? And a photocopier,"

She was trying to make them laugh, but it didn't really work.

* * *

Later, sheltering from the rain under a beech tree with Dean by his side, Ted would reflect of the things he should have said to Remus when they bid goodbye. It had become clear that Ted would have to leave for good, and no amount of reassurance or pleading would change his mind. Despite Dromeda's protests, Dora and Remus had promised to stay with her once Ted had gone, so the three of them had been there when Ted left on that grey Thursday morning. Ted should have warned Remus not to leave again. He should have told him to be brave. He should have told Remus to look after Dora and Dromeda, and that they'd look after him in return. Ted should have told him to stay safe and to stop Dora diving into any duels while she was pregnant. He should have asked Remus how likely it was that the child would be werewolf. He should have warned him how unpleasant Dromeda's labour had been, so Remus was warned about how endless and distressing it was and how useless it felt to be a man during it. Ted should have warmed Remus to stay on his toes now that he wasn't there as a buffer between Remus and Andromeda. He should have added that Dromeda had old-fashioned views about raising children which were best ignored. He should have told him that, just about, Ted thought he was a decent bloke. But in the moment Ted's thoughts had been with the wife and daughter he was about to say goodbye to, not the son-in-law he'd only met two months ago. So Ted merely shook his hand and let Remus wish him good luck.

* * *

"You're in seventh year, aren't you, Dean?"

"If I was still at school. At least I'm missing my exams, eh?" the boy grinned. They were walking across a muddy field in Northumberland, searching aimlessly for somewhere to sleep tonight.

"Yeah," Ted agreed, then returned to the subject, "So you were taught by Remus Lupin?"

Dean nodded. "In third year,"

"Did you like him?"

"Course. Probably out best Defence teacher. I remember our first lesson, he made Snape appear in a dress. He was really safe about me being dyslexic, never marked me down for my spelling. He's a good guy,"

Ted looked at him. "You know he's a werewolf?"

"Oh, yeah. Forgot about that," said Dean. He had a habit of stretching out his vowels with an upward inflection. "Seamus was freaked out about it, but I didn't know werewolves are supposed to be savage and all that. Normally I mean, obviously they're savage when they transform. But Professor Lupin seemed alright to me. D'you know him?" Dean asked.

They were approaching the fence. Dean would be able to climb over but Ted would have to apparate to the other side. "I do,"

"How?"

"He's a relative,"

"Woah. You're not a werewolf too?" grinned Dean. He was a nice boy. Jokey and smiley. He spoke his mind, and didn't seem especially traumatised about everything that was going on.

"No, we're not blood relatives," Ted explained.

"You mean he's married?"

"Yeah," Ted confirmed. He was going to keep the next part of the sentence in his head, but he heard himself say it out loud, "He's married to my daughter,"

"No _way!"_ gasped Dean, stopping in his tracks to face Ted, "That's cool,"

"D'you reckon?"

"He's a cool guy,"

Ted was surprised by this unexpected praise. "That's very nice of you to say, Dean,"

"If we ever get out of this mess, you can tell him I said that".

* * *

"I've been thinking about names again," Remus said over breakfast one morning. It was the middle of March and the weather was just starting to perk up. His wife was bored of being so heavily pregnant, although the baby wasn't due for another few weeks.

"Right," said Tonks.

"If it's a boy, what if we named him after your dad?" Remus suggested, then added, "Though I'll understand if you don't want to,"

The idea had been brewing in Remus' head for a few weeks, but he was slightly nervous about voicing it out loud.

Tonks put her spoon down and smiled at him, touched. "Oh, Remus. That's lovely,"

"Really?"

He hadn't been sure what she'd say.

"Yeah. Would have made him dead proud,"

"We'll have to see what your mum says too," he added. Perhaps Anromeda would think it was too soon, or that they were trying to replace her husband.

"Okay," Tonks agreed, "But I like it. Ted Lupin. Teddy, maybe,"

"Yes," said Remus, thinking of his father-in-law. How Ted had repeatedly deflected Andromeda's hostility away from him even when he didn't deserve it. How Tonks had told him that her dad trusted her to know what she was doing. How Ted hadn't once asked him any lurid, probing questions about being a werewolf. How they'd shared a Firewhiskey on the morning of the wedding.

"Yes," Remus said again, "Teddy".

* * *

 **Thanks for reading this three-parter. If you have any comments, corrections, complements or criticisms, please let me know in the reviews. Thank you.**


	38. Haunting

_Why do birds sing so gay,_

 _And lovers await the break of day?_

 _Why do they fall in love?_

 _Why does the rain fall from up above?_

 _Why do fools fall in love?_

 _Why do they fall in love?_

\- Frankie Lyman and the Teenagers

Haunting

Sirius hates them. He should probably feel guilty about this, but he doesn't. Spending twelve years in prison for a crime you didn't commit gives you an odd relationship to guilt. He hates being with the two of them together, but given the circumstances that's often unavoidable. At Order meetings they drool at each other from opposite sides of the table- they're so sickeningly obvious that it's a miracle hardly anybody else has found out about them. Remus likes to think he's a master of subtlety but they could hardly be less subtle if Nymphadora had "Shagging the werewolf" written across her forehead. Sirius hates the coy, unsure way Lupin looks at her. G _et a grip, Moony,_ he wants to snap, _a girl half your age throwing herself at you? You wouldn't turn that down even if you weren't getting zero other offers._ He hates the way Tonks gazes at Moony; possessive, enamoured. _What's there to be possessive about?_ Sirius wants to sneer, _You don't know him._ I _know him._ Sirius hates the way she touches him too. Nymphadora holds Remus like she's his Mum or something, clearly overcompensating for how blatant their age difference is.

Sirius hates when they turn up at Grimmauld together; it makes him feel like he's their senile grandmother who they have a duty to visit. It hurts to know that Moony and Tonks have been couple-hanging-out and he wasn't invited. Sirius misses them, that's all. That isn't a crime, is it? (Spending twelve years in prison for a crime you didn't commit gives you an odd relationship to criminality). He misses both of them. He had a few months of having his best friend back to reminisce and laugh and talk everything through with, and he had his baby cousin back to wind up and be Black with. Now they've drifted away from him and towards each other, and Sirius is left out in the cold. They don't mean to make him feel that way, but their looks and their visiting him together and their "Sorry, I'm not around tonight, I'm seeing Remus," makes him feel redundant. Is this what it's like for Harry, stuck in middle of Ron and Hermione? Remus slept _here_ most of the Summer, in the spare room next to Sirius'. Now Dumbledore's got him doing overnight surveillance, and on his free nights Lupin goes home to his cottage or he's with Tonks. He only stays over in the spare room once a week these days. It's so quiet here without him.

Sirius misses who they used to be too. He hates that Nymphadora's no longer the little kid who used to sit on his lap and tangle her fingers in his hair and dollop sloppy kisses on him. Now the little girl is gone and it's Remus who gets her on his lap and gets her fingers in his hair and her kisses. Sirius hates that everybody calls her by her surname now, like she's a different person. He feels betrayed, somehow, that she grew up without him. Spending twelve years in prison for a crime you didn't commit gives you an odd relationship to betrayal.

He misses Remus the most. Young Remus, whose cynicism was amusing, who had properly brown hair and whose knees didn't crack when he stood up. Schoolboy Remus with his books and his prefect badge and his choirboy treble, unbroken for three years after Sirius's own voice dropped. Moony now is so _old._ Not only his hair and his craggy voice and his crow's feet, but in his resigned jadedness and exhaustion. In the way he patronises Sirius and bosses him around (schoolboy Remus wouldn't dare). He feels betrayed that Remus grew old.

Sirius is offended that they don't remember each other from back then. Remus _had_ come round to Andromeda's house at least a few times; Sirius can remember them all sitting round the dining table talking. Lupin and Ted would chat about Muggle stuff while Sirius and Andromeda drank too much and talked Black, and Nymphadora would get cross that she wasn't getting enough attention so would start turning her hair green. It grates on Sirius that neither of them remember that but they're together now. As if that life didn't exist. Like Lupin-and-Tonks have become their own entity and Sirius, who knew both of them first, is their spare part. It's like James and Lily all over again except Sirius is older and bitterer. Perhaps Remus _does_ remember those times at Andromeda's house, Sirius considers, but is pretending he's forgotten so that this thing with Nymphadora doesn't make him feel like a creep. Moony's been good at repression. Sometimes Sirius wishes he could sneer at him that what's everybody going to say when they find out that goody-two-shoes Remus, prefect Remus, Professor Lupin, turns out to have a taste for little girls.

The infuriating aspect of all this is that Sirius knows he's to blame, at least in part. He egged them on from the beginning- "I reckon she fancies you, mate", "Of course he isn't gay, Nymphadora, haven't you noticed who he's always looking at?"- it was a laugh, a little project, _something_ to occupy his brain while he's stuck in this godforsaken house. And it had wound them both up something rotten- "Don't be ridiculous, Padfoot", " _Me?_ He doesn't look at _me,_ he _doesn't!_ ". Sirius hadn't expected them to _actually get together_. That's rather ruined the joke. The joke's on Sirius now, but for the sake of his pride, and to spare himself an excruciating conversation with Lupin where Remus explains that it's nothing personal, Sirius can't let them know how angry they make him. So he has to keep teasing and sniggering and winding them up; "Is it me, Moony, or is that a new bite you've got on your neck?", "Remus hasn't been here all day, Tonks, and yet I can smell his soap? That's strange isn't it?", "This is my father's study. I think it would be a fitting tribute to his memory if you used this room for all future amorous activities".

And fine, he'll admit it- he's jealous. Not that Lupin's with Tonks specifically- that's disgusting, she's his cousin, she's a kid- but that he's having fun, getting laid, doing _something_ with his life which isn't the damn Order and this damn house. He's living, which is more than can be said for what Sirius is doing in here.

Sirius is so lonely.


	39. Unusual Suspects

_"I married her because I couldn't ever imagine getting bored of talking to her,"_

\- Neil Gaiman on Amanda Palmer, 2013.

Unusual Suspects

Sleeping with a Metamorphmagus is an adventure. Remus finds this out in bed one Saturday morning, the weekend before the May Bank holiday. Tonks almost always wakes up before he does and sometimes in his sleep Remus can feel her fidgeting and rolling over and muttering to herself. Once she'd tried to wake him by kissing his neck, but the feel of a mouth unexpectedly on his skin during sleep was too much like Remus' nightmares and that one dreadful memory, and he'd woken up screaming. He'd flailed so much that he'd hit her, and that had made everything worse because he's always panicking about accidentally hurting her, and with the wolf in his mind he'd felt even more shocked and sickened with himself. He'd wanted to apparate away immediately but Tonks had gripped his hand and insisted that everything was fine. He'd stayed but felt guilty and on edge all day. She hasn't tried to kiss him awake since.

This morning Remus had woken up to find Tonks watching him sleepily and running her fingers down his arm. Her hair sometimes changes colour in the night, which he finds delightful, and this morning is bluish-white. He'd mumbled a hello and she'd shuffled over to him for a morning cuddle. Hands and mouths had started wandering and now Tonks is sprawled half-on-top of him blowing softly into his face between kisses. Remus rubs his hands together to warm them up, then slips them under her pyjama top.

"Yes?" he clarifies clumsily.

"Mmph, yeah,"

His hand skates up the skin of her stomach to her breast. Tonks wriggles contentedly and presses herself harder against his palms. Her face nuzzles the side of his. Last night she had been lying on her back on his bed rabbiting about something, and he'd been listening to her, chuckling, while he changed into his pyjamas. He pulled his trousers and his socks off, tossed his socks into the washing basket and folded his trousers neatly over the back of the chair. Tonks had stopped chattering, and he glanced over to see her watching him dreamily.

"What?" he'd asked.

She gave him the smile she sometimes did, the smile which one might give to a person if they had just fetched the stars out of the sky. The sort of smile he never expected or deserved to be on the receiving end of.

"You look cute,"

She'd crawled across his bed to him, knelt up, reached a hand out and stroked it down his face to his shoulder. Then she wrapped both arms around his back and kissed him on the mouth. It was slow and loving- he liked it when she kissed him slowly because he could feel her and taste her properly. He didn't think he'd ever get enough of the taste of her. Merlin knows what she thought was cute about him in his boxers and scruffy shirt, but if she wanted this then he'd take it.

"Anyway, so I said to Proudfoot that that couldn't work because of the Formeebtia jinx," she mumbled, jumping back in to the story she'd just be telling him. She kissed him every couple of words, and when Remus flicked his eyes open he saw that hers were still shut. She did this talking-while-kissing thing sometimes. He liked that too because he got to taste her and feel her and listen to her silly stories. He kissed lazily across her face down to the neck, hands round her waist while she mumbled on about Proudfoot and Formeebtia jinxes. He hadn't wanted to do anything beyond kissing- and, because she is the most patient and understanding girlfriend on Earth, she didn't bring it up. Nowadays she lets him say if he wants to do anything more, and then she'll say yes or no. It isn't the greatest arrangement in the world- he isn't sure how to adequately phrase _"If you wouldn't mind, I would like to do something which in polite company James referred to as rolling cigars,"_ but if he doesn't suggest anything then neither does she, so at least he doesn't have to say _"Please no cigar-rolling today, thank you"._ Tonks isn't usually one for waiting, but when it comes to this she's got the patience of a saint. She nags and needles him about plenty of other things, but when it comes to sex she's always willing to wait for him, stop for him, help him, reassure him. She'd said to him when they first started being intimate that the only thing she'd insist on was that he wasn't to feel guilty about anything to do with it. And he knows that every other man she's been out with, every man her friends are going out with, are the sort of ordinary men who enjoy this, who jump into bed and giggle and flirt and know what they're doing and what to say and where to touch. She could be going out with any of those men and having a normal, fun sex life, but instead she's being patient and understanding and wiser than most people would give her credit for, with him. So he'd climbed into bed, and pulled the duvet up over their heads, trapping them in a tiny dark tent. He likes that. They'd kissed some more, he'd run his hands around her back and through her hair, she'd done that absolutely amazing thing with her mouth on his ears- and then they'd tapped the light off and snuggled up and fallen asleep.

"Do you like them this size?" she asks into his neck, back in the present.

"Nmm...what?" Remus mumbles.

"I can change if you want. I can make them bigger," Tonks says. The flesh in Remus' left hand expands freakishly and he yelps, letting go of her like she's frozen.

"Or smaller. Or one of each," Tonks continues mildly, her chest swelling and shrinking in demonstration. "Don't you like that?" she asks with a smile of devastating innocence.

"No! Just...just normal, thanks," Remus says hastily, "Can we just get back to, you know...".

"Seriously, big tits or small? I won't be offended,"

"Small," he decides. He doesn't know much about women but he knows that smaller is the less dangerous answer, even if she's only messing with him.

"Like this?" Tonks offers, her flesh contracting again.

"Um, yeah," he mutters.

"Hair alright? You don't want it green or something?"

She is completely barking mad. "Why would I want you more if your hair was green?"

"Dunno, you might. You get to find a lot of stuff out about people when you're a Metamorphmagus,"

"Oh, are you a Metamorphmagus?" Remus asks, getting irritated and taking his hands out from under her shirt, "You've never mentioned it,"

"Hmm, keep that up and you'll find you're snogging a girl who looks like Snape,"

He shudders. "That's not an image I need in my mind,"

"Or Umbridge,"

Immediately, Remus stiffens. Dolores Umbridge, the woman who made his chance of a career and financial security even less likely than they had been already. The woman for whom "half-breed" is a favourite word, worst insult, biggest fear and greatest relish. The woman who is no doubt making life at Hogwarts even more difficult for Harry, a boy who has suffered so much already and walks with the weight on the world on his shoulders- and who is not famed for his even temper and placidity. Remus feels his jaw set involuntarily.

"Or Mad-Eye," Tonks says quickly, in the tone she uses when wishing to change the subject. She rolls off him and flops onto her back on the bed.

"I'd prefer Mad-Eye to Snape," Remus replies, glad for something to talk about other than Dolores Umbridge.

"Seriously?"

"What, you'd take being in bed with Snape over being in bed with Moody?"

"Yeah, course I would," Tonks answers, as if it's obvious, "Mad-Eye's a mate but he's about a hundred years old and he's got a face like a battered chair,"

"Whereas Severus Snape is the picture of beauty". Sometimes the show of being overly civil to Severus in front of everybody else (specifically Sirius) gets wearying, so Remus likes that with Tonks he can mock Snape as much as he wants without worrying whose overhearing.

"He'd be alright if he had a hairwash," Tonks suggests.

"-try twenty hair-washes-"

"-and he's only the same age as you,"

"Ancient, then," Remus notes. His tone is joking, but the truth is he never thinks more about how much older he is than Tonks than when he remembers that Severus was her teacher. That makes him feel archaic as well as sleazy. Thirteen years. If Dumbledore had come knocking at Remus' front door three years earlier than he had, Remus could have taught Tonks for NEWT. And now here she is in his _bed_.

She must be able to tell that he's uncomfortable because she says, "Don't call yourself that". She's always defensive about him calling himself old. There's an awkward pause and then Tonks continues, "Did he have girlfriends at school?"

"Severus? Good God, no," Remus answers in a slightly too scoffing tone. The thought of Severus Snape having a girlfriend is…even more ridiculous than the thought of Remus Lupin having a girlfriend.

"Alright, I was just asking," she responds defensively.

"He was far too busy mixing potions and reading about dark arts. He didn't have any hobbies that I know of,"

"Friends, then?" she pushes.

"No. Well, people he hung around with," Remus concedes, "But I wouldn't call them _friends,"_

"Did they become Death Eaters?"

"Yes". Tonks looks at him thoughtfully and shuffles over to slot her head underneath his chin. In books men think things like _her head fitted perfectly there like she had been made for him._ Tonks' head is uncomfortable on Remus' collar bone and her spiky hair's in his face and if his head has to stay at this angle to accommodate hers he's going to have a cricked neck later. He wouldn't change a thing.

"Remus?" she says.

"Hmm?"

"Why d'you think he came back to our side?"

He doesn't have to give it much consideration. "Cold feet, same as Regulus. It happened back then," he shrugs, draping an arm around her.

"But Regulus was killed. You-Know-Who _believes_ that Snape's a double-agent? Or is it triple? You know what I mean- he thinks Snape's on his side,"

"Voldemort's hamartia is his hubris,"

"English, please," Tonks says with an eye-roll.

"Voldemort's a very good Legilimens. He knows that Snape can perform Occlumency but Voldemort wouldn't imagine for a second that Snape's skill at defending his mind is as good as Voldemort's own skill at infiltrating,"

"But it is,"

"Yes. No matter what Sirius says, Snape's one of us now and it's costing him incredible effort to stay in Voldemort's inner circle while feeding information back to Dumbledore,"

"He must be very brave," Tonks murmurs.

"Yes, he is,"

"Still a prick, though,"

Remus grins. The Black bluntness has always made him laugh. "Absolutely," he agrees.

Tonks leans over to the bedside table to check his clock (the clock in her bedroom crows and shrieks and gets cross with them. Remus is thankful that his is a standard silent clock), realises that the table is too far away from the bed, so grows her arm longer to be able to pick it up. Remus often feels wary about touching her stuff, but she treats everything in his house like it's hers. He often comes downstairs to find her snooping through his bookshelf, rummaging in his kitchen cupboards, or chucking the cushions off his sofa while she gropes for a pen that's fallen down the side of the couch.

A sudden thought occurs to Remus.

"Whatever you want to look like is fine with me," he blurts.

"Eh?"

"I know you like to mess about with what your face and everything, but it doesn't matter to me. Big, small, tall, short, green, pink, whatever. I don't care about what you want to look like or if you've got a real face; it's not important and it never will be,"

She gives him a long look. Then she surprises him by simply saying, "Thanks,"

He nods. He'd expected her to say a lot of things but none of them were that. She's always surprising him, whether with changing the size of her breasts while they're in his palms or knowing the twelve uses of dragon's blood or thinking that Snape could have had a girlfriend, or by just how many times she can trip over the umbrella stand at Grimmauld Place. She will always bamboozle him. She will always fascinate him. She will always astound him.


	40. Cabina Di Confessione

**This one-shot follows on from Ch20** ** _The Doorbell,_** **although it is not a direct "Part 2". I've been working on this chapter for a while and had it swimming round my head for even longer- in some ways it's the pivotal moment in this relationship. Therefore, it is** ** _very_** **angsty and contains some swearing. I hope you enjoy.**

Cabina Di Confessione

Probably, she should have made him sleep on the floor. He'd expected her to, judging by his nervous glances once he re-entered the bedroom from the bathroom, dressed in his pyjamas. They'd got home from her parents and he'd had a bath. He likes long baths. Tonks had listened at the bathroom door, imagining what it would be like to push it open, take her clothes off and climb in with him. She'd snuggle up against his chest and stroke his wet hands and arms. And then she'd shove his head underwater. How dare he disappear in the night? How dare he leave her a hastily scrawled note and nothing else? How dare he do it all at her parents' house days after they were tortured? How dare he get cold feet three weeks after they were married? How dare he abandon their baby? Wastrel. Deadbeat dad.

But Remus had had twelve years of cold and uncomfortable sleep on narrow beds, squeaky sofas and, a few times, hard floors. Plus all the mornings after the full moon when he'd woken up naked and muddy in a forest. Tonks often contemplates how many nights Remus must have spent shivering and stiff, and no way in hell was she going to add another one. She muses on that as she wakes up the following morning, rolls out of bed and yanks an old Quidditch jumper on over her pyjamas. Remus is curled up on the far side of the bed- usually he wriggles and twitches in his sleep, but last night he'd barely moved. He's taken as little of the duvet as possible, probably assuming that he doesn't deserve it. Tonks wants to lean over to touch him, although she isn't sure if she wants to gently run her fingers through his hair and down his cheek, or if she wants to smash his face into the pillow. Tonks sighs, knowing that realistically she isn't going to do either.

She makes herself a cup of tea in the kitchen and drinks it on the living room sofa, gazing out of the window at the rain. Remus is home- that's good. He's safe and she can protect him, and if anything happens they'll fight together. He _said_ he'd come for home good, though it's hard to believe that now. What with the whole Death-Eater-takeover, unable-to-return-to-work development, Tonks has had a lot of time over the last few days to think. She knows that Mum's got it into her head that their whole relationship has been a long con by Remus, but that's far-fetched. It just isn't true. But it's also true that Tonks' husband isn't quite the guy she thought he was. She thought that integrity and resilience and loyalty run through Remus like a stick of rock, but they don't. Tonks thought that he was a good, kind person underneath the fear and self-loathing, but in reality there's no "underneath". Remus' self-loathing and fear are _twisted in_ with his goodness and his kindness. His self-loathing isn't the tragic, sympathetic thing Tonks thought it was- it makes him rash and selfish

But, curling up on the sofa and sipping her tea, Tonks can admit that it is, very slightly, her responsibility. Remus bailed on her before, so she should have known he could do it again. He's never explained why he left her last year- he _did_ apologise, but it was mixed in with agreeing to marry her. He didn't elaborate on the apology, and when he added that he loved her she'd lapped it up. She didn't question him or tell him to calm down or demand what had brought about this change of heart. She'd been too blindsided and overjoyed to wonder about about any of that. Now, Tonks could kick herself.

There's a scuff as the door to the living room opens, and he's there in his scruffy pyjamas holding out two mugs of tea. Remus notices that Tonks is holding one already, and instead of chuckling like he usually would he makes an odd sort of cough and puts one mug down on the corner of the coffee table.

He clears his throat and rasps, "I know I'm not in a position to ask anything of you, but when you're ready, do you reckon we could have a talk? Please,"

Tonks isn't sure whether or not she expected this so soon.

"Alright," she murmurs.

His eyes cast around the room, and she's taken back to being beside Bill's hospital bed a few weeks ago, clutching Remus' jacket and promising him she didn't care that he was a werewolf, while his eyes looked everywhere apart from her.

"Well, go on," Tonks prompts, "You're the one who wants to talk,"

Remus clears his throat and looks back at her. "I want to say again how sorry I am. I am so sorry, Dora. I don't expect you to forgive me but I thought I could explain why I-"

He's using his Professor Voice again, like he's rehearsed what he's about to say, and suddenly Tonks can't hear him speak for a second longer.

"Shut up. Just shut up, okay? You don't need to explain why you did it because it's perfectly bloody obvious. We don't need to 'have a talk'. You've planned this all in your head, haven't you? I said it yesterday- you've got this whole speech about how sorry you are and how it's all because you're _scared_ and you're _ashamed._ All we ever talk about is _you_ , and how miserable you are and how dangerous you are, how you're ancient and ill and how nobody should ever want to be your friend or like you or love you. It's werewolf werewolf werewolf, day and night. And if it's not that, it's the fact that you're so _old_ , you'll been in a nursing home next week and aren't you such a paedo for fancying me- have you ever thought about how that makes me feel?"

For a moment Remus looks as if he's actually going to answer this question, and Tonks doesn't want him to, because he hasn't. He's only thought about how it makes _him_ feel. She ploughs on:

"No, of course you haven't, because you're the most self-centred person on planet Earth. You don't realise because it's all negative _"I hate myself"_ self-obsession, but it's still an obsession, and my God is it _boring._ Didn't you always used to tell me that you're boring? Well, I've said it now so I hope you're satisfied. It didn't occur to you at all that after Sirius died I might _need you_. I'd just been in hospital for Christ's sake, but you didn't even think about that, you just thought about yourself and the China doll version of me that you have in your head, and you ran away for a year. And it was on _me_ to pick up the pieces, like it was this last week. It was on _me_ to tell everybody, and it was _me_ who everybody saw being miserable day after day. And all you thought about was it would be better for me to be away from _you,_ it was _you_ who was ruining my future, _you_ were such a dreadful boyfriend, _you_ were too poor and too dangerous. It's always _you you you,"_

She's shouting at him now, and crying, and before Tonks can stop herself she blurts out something she hasn't even let herself think, "I wasn't even a person, I was just a _thing_ for you to take all your self-hatred out on. I felt used, I felt like an object. I lost weight, couldn't change my hair anymore, so even the way I _looked_ was like an advert for you and how terrible you reckon you are. It was like I was disappearing and it was all for you,"

She feels ashamed that she let him have that power over her. That she let herself become so pathetic, reduced to someone tearful and depressed. Tonks thought she was stronger than that, and she's furious that Remus humiliated her so. She could still change her most of her face that year, and grow and shrink and age. But her hair stayed lank and stringy and brown. The thing that made her proud and special, the thing that made her herself, was gone. He took it. He stole her from herself for an entire year- Remus deserves to have her rage taken out on him, so Tonks continues berating:

"And then suddenly you're home and you won't even _talk_ to me, you barely looked at me even though you knew how sad I was. Maybe if you'd deigned to speak to me, we could have worked it out. We could have decided to be _friends_. That would have been better, wouldn't it, since according to you our marriage was such a grave mistake. I wouldn't have liked it, but I could have coped with that if only you'd got off your high bloody horse long enough to speak to me without arguing. But no, you decide you want to _marry me_ at Dumbledore's fucking funeral, you knew that when you click your fingers I come running. And we sneak away to Scotland- no friends at my wedding, no party, because Merlin forbid _I_ have anything I want, Merlin forbid our wedding is anything other than about _you._ What was even the point of it, you were as hopeless after as before, one minute we're happy and the next it's all doom and gloom and werewolves. I was nervous to come home- no, actually I was _scared,_ scared about what you'd do and say and be like. So there you are- you're the kind of man who makes his wife scared to come home to him,"

Tonks knows that'll hurt him, and leaves a pause for a moment to let it sink in. She's bats a tear away from her face. Remus isn't crying, because he hardly ever does. Tonks used to believe he was good at controlling his emotions. He's not. He's just good at pretending he is. Good at internalising keeping the utter mess which is his emotional state.

"And we have the whole stupid performance all over again once I got pregnant, all the theatrics and running away again because not even _your own baby_ can make you think of someone apart from yourself," Tonks snarls, "I hate how I haven't said any of this, I've barely let myself think it, to spare _your_ feelings. I'm sick of giving up parts of myself for you, and I'm completely sick of you as well,"

Tonks throws herself back onto the sofa and sobs, hating him, loving him, hating that she loves him. Hating herself, hating that everything she said was true. Hating that even after all this shouting, the baby is still going to be inside her, sitting there, a physical embodiment of this mess, a physical embodiment of their love. Their love has always been a mess. That's another thing she hasn't allowed herself to acknowledge.

Eventually she pulls her hands away from her face to look over at Remus. He's sitting in the armchair watching her, looking handsome and upset and bewildered, and she wants to kick his teeth in. Tonks realises he isn't going to speak until she tells him to.

"Go on then," she snorts sarcastically, "Say something,"

Remus' hands tense on the arm of the chair. "I don't know what to say. Would you like me to leave?"

She _really_ wants to kick his teeth in. "No, I would fucking well not like you to leave. Try staying, try sticking around for once in your life and see what that's like,"

Remus considers for a long time, then says, "I didn't realise you felt all those things,"

"I don't think I did either," Tonks murmurs, suddenly exhausted. She wants to lean against him and burrow her nose into his collar, close her eyes and let all the stress and uncertainty disappear, except it's him who's _causing_ the stress and uncertainty. If only there were two Remuses; one to be livid with and one to quietly cuddle up with.

There's silence for a moment, and Tonks remembers again that he isn't speaking unless she lets him. Merlin, he's pathetic sometimes.

"You can still explain if you want to," she sighs, because otherwise neither of them are going to say anything all day.

Slowly, Remus says, "I'm glad you've told me that I treat you that way. I will reflect on what you've said and how I can address it. There's a lot that I need to consider. It's all been so fast, and it's clear to me now that I haven't processed any of this properly. I spent a year telling myself I should stay away from you, and then suddenly I realised I shouldn't, and we were getting married and then we were having a baby. You seemed so pleased and in control and you knew you wanted to keep it. I was afraid. I'm still afraid now,"

"Why didn't you say? It was easier for you to walk away than it was for you to tell me you were scared?"

"I tried," he says in a small voice.

"I know this scares you, I know you might not reckon you're ready to be a dad, but I know we can do this," Tonks assures him, "And I _want_ to do this, with you,"

"I'm not scared of being a parent," Remus corrects, "You're right that I never imagined being a father, but you know I like children, and it would mean a lot to me to have one of my own. That isn't what I'm scared of. I'm scared for the child. I'm sure it's going to be a werewolf, and its life will be painful and humiliating. It will be ill and it will be hated,"

He swallows, "I'm afraid that you'll be tied down with me. If we didn't have the baby you could have your career, you could travel. You could do anything. But instead you'll be stuck with me and a werewolf baby- I won't repeat what that will be like. I'm afraid of the guilt I will feel towards the child and towards you. I'm concerned that you'll grow to resent me, and you'd be right to do that. I left so I didn't have to go through the pain of watching us fall apart, and so I didn't ever have to experience you leaving me. I'm aware how selfish that is. I am sincerely sorry,"

He's tried to keep looking at her while he's been saying this, but Tonks glanced away and now tears are tracking their way down her face, not burning fury like earlier, but dribbling, sad tears of hurt and bewilderment.

"Are you saying we shouldn't have got married?" she asks, hating how brittle her voice sounds.

"Perhaps we rushed into it. Perhaps we should have gone slowly, like we did before. Molly says war makes people hurry into weddings and suchlike, doesn't she?"

But Molly, Tonks thinks indignantly, meant Bill and Fleur. Molly's always been rooting for her and Remus, she's been sweet and supportive this last year. They're different to Bill and Fleur- Remus Lupin and Fleur Delacour are about as unalike as two people can possibly be, and the circumstances are different too. Aren't they?

"And it's clear we have a lot of issues we need to address," Remus continues heavily, "We didn't even talk about children. I didn't know you wanted one so much,"

"I didn't either," Tonks admits, "But your child, _this_ child, _now_ …I think it could be the most incredible thing that happens to us,"

What are they fighting for if not the future? What did Mad-Eye, Dumbledore and Sirius die for if it wasn't for this?

"I know you do," Remus answers. His voice is quiet, in the way it is when what he isn't saying is louder: _I know you do but I don't believe you. I know you do but you're wrong._

Many tense silences have settled over them over the last few months, but this is the tensest Tonks can remember. What the hell are they supposed to do now? What she wants to do is snap at Remus that _he's_ wrong, but then they'll be going round in circles like they were for the couple of days after she told him about the baby. She wants to grab him by the front of his t-shirt and beg _"What can I do? Please tell me what I have to do to keep you here, to make you happy, to see how amazing having the child will be. I'll do anything, just tell me what you need"._

Tonks knows, though, that that will not help. When she grabbed him and made demands of him by Bill's bedside, he couldn't even look at her, let alone say anything productive. As much as he deserves her wrath, she's going to have to put pride aside and listen to him. Maybe hear things _she_ doesn't want to hear either. That'll be hard, but she's already admitted some hard truths to herself this morning. Tonks wonders momentarily if putting her wrath on hold is being pathetic again…but she's putting it on hold to fight for their marriage and their future. She's not admitting defeat. She's not letting him off the hook. She's being strategic. And she got full marks on Planning and Strategy.

"Remus," Tonks says. She hears her voice falter, and puts on her Auror Authority tone, "You know you said there's issues we need to address. You know you said you tried to tell me you were scared?"

He nods.

"Do you want to shout at me for a bit? It feels good, honestly,"

He pushes everything down inside him, and it only comes out as fear. He just said they've got problems and, difficult as it is to want to be fair to him right now, he needs his chance to say some things back. Then they're even, and they can talk honestly about what they're going to do next.

"Could I write it down?" he requests.

"No. Shout at me. Get angry. It'll do you good,"

He needs rage, he needs to shout and break stuff and tell her exactly what he thinks of her. He needs to get everything off his chest, because it's in danger of crushing him. They'll both screech at each other for a while and then they'll work things out, come up with a new strategy, and be better in the future.

Remus sighs. "I don't like being angry with you and I don't like you being angry with me, even though you have every right to be. I don't want to put words into your mouth, but I think you _do_ like it, don't you? The arguing,"

He closes his hands in his lap. When he speaks again his tone is softer, but still steady and clear. "That's why it's hard to tell you how I feel, because you get cross, which you have every right to do, but it means I sometimes can't finish what I want to say. I tried to apologise to you for the last year but you wouldn't let me finish. If I'd said everything I wanted to, possibly we could have had this conversation then, not now. Sometimes you don't listen either. Or we get side-tracked arguing and go off the topic. Perhaps I should try harder, and I'm sorry for that, but you don't listen sometimes, or you interrupt me or you end up shouting at me,"

Her heart's thrumming against her ribcage- this is harder than she anticipated. She wants to argue but she knows that Remus is right. The day after he said he'd marry her he'd tried to tell her he was sorry, but Tonks hadn't wanted to think about the last year. It was over now, and she didn't want to feel sad anymore. She'd wanted to move on, and she was irritated that Remus was feeling guilty. She'd been like that since, hadn't she? She'd seen his worries as grumbles, or dismissed them as irrational. No wonder Remus feels like everything happened so fast- she didn't let him have any closure. She'd wanted to get on with enjoying being back together but Remus needed to adjust and explain. She should have known that.

She should have also known how considered and accurate his observations about her them would be. Tonks feels embarrassed, and then he says something which makes her heart stop.

"I love you more than anything in the world," Remus promises, "I truly mean that. But those few weeks in May, June, it was like you thought if you shouted at me enough I'd agree to marry you,"

"God, no. Really? I would _never_ make you- if this isn't what you want- I-" Tonks cuts herself off, feeling like she might be sick. Didn't he want to marry her? Does he think she forced him or manipulated him? No- she couldn't, she didn't, she'd never. She wouldn't do that to Remus. She'd rather never see him again than only be with him because he felt like she made him marry her. _He's_ the one who agreed to it, he's the one who, for those four days after their wedding, told her over and over how much he loved her and how proud he was to be her husband.

"This _is_ what I want, I promise," Remus insists, "But like I said, I believe we should have given it some more thought. It's my responsibility as well, I know I'm the one who….you hadn't asked again and we hadn't spoken for a couple of weeks, I'm the one who brought it up and I'm the one who said I wanted to get married. So it's on me, too,"

He pauses, as if to reassure her of this statement, before continuing, "This whole thing with you isn't what I'm used to. I like to see myself as the kind of man who thinks my options and my actions through. I like to plan and I like to have information, but I don't know what I'm doing when it comes to us. I never have. At first that was exciting and in some ways it still is, but it frightens me too. It frightens me that there's no plan and no map, and it frightens me that loving you makes me do spontaneous things - like marrying you, like leaving. Loving you as much as I do frightens me. Do you see now why I'm afraid about the pregnancy? Rushing into our wedding only affects us, but to rush into having a baby isn't fair on the child,"

Loving him hasn't been frightening. Tonks has been frightened _for_ herself and frightened _for_ Remus, but never frightened _by_ her feelings for him. Those feelings have been intimidating and overwhelming, but never frightening. Loving him has always felt right. Bloody Merlin, he's been thinking and feeling all these different things about her and their relationship, and she never knew. Tonks thought they were on the same page, but it turns out they're not even in the same library. She feels stupid and ashamed, and then livid that she's feeling that way again because of him.

Remus clears his throat, as if to say: _Point 3:_ "I've also been reflecting on what you said yesterday. How you thought I was perfect. I think I've been able to sense that a few times, and it makes me panic that you've got me on a pedestal and one day you'll realise that I'm not the person you keep telling me I am. I don't want to put words into your mouth, but I sometimes get the impression that you see me as a perfect person whose just got a part broken, and if you love me enough you can fix it. It isn't like that- there isn't anything to fix, and if there was that wouldn't be your responsibility,"

He clasps his hands together again and concludes, "I am sorry again for the pain I have caused you over the last two years,"

When Tonks was shouting at him a moment ago, she'd wanted to hurt his feelings him. It had all been true, but she'd wanted to sting him. Remus has hurt her over and over, but never intentionally. He didn't say any of what he just said because he wanted to upset her- he was speaking factually. That's worse.

Tonks promises herself that she's not going to cry again now. She's cried enough in front of him over the last couple of days, the last few weeks, the last two years.

"My tea's gone cold," Remus announces unexpectedly, "Would you like some?"

"What? Oh, right. Yeah," Tonks mumbles.

He picks up his mug, and the mug he left on the coffee table. Tonks puts hers on the table as well so that he doesn't have to touch her when he takes it. He could easily put a heating charm on the mugs, but he goes to the kitchen to put the kettle on again. Tonks is sure that that's deliberate- he's giving her a moment to compose herself and work out what to say next. Because where do they go from here?

He reappears far too quickly, leaving her mug on the table for her again.

"Remus?" Tonks asks.

"Yes,"

"Yesterday you said you wanted this". He told her he was back for good and that he wanted to have this baby with her, but now he sounds unconvinced again. Remus doesn't look like he's about to run off again right now, but how can she not be afraid of that? Will she _ever_ not be afraid? If he can marry her and promise to love and cherish her forever, and be the sweetest, most wonderful husband for a few days, _and then_ disappear when it all got complicated- will she ever be able to trust him not to do it again? It's the same with cheaters, isn't it? Her friend Mickey has this cousin, Jared, who went out with a girl who cheated on him. She apologised over and over and insisted it was a mistake, and she stayed together with Jared. He insisted they were fine and had moved forward, but Mickey said he was always restless when his girlfriend was out. He had it in the back of her mind that she'd cheat again. Is that what it's going to be like with Remus? Should she really be signing up for that kind of stress? Is that fair on the child?

"I do. I promise. I want you and I want our life together. I mean that," says Remus without hesitation.

"Even though you reckon we've rushed into this and you're afraid about having the baby?" she clarifies.

"Yes,"

Tonks could almost laugh. "You make no bloody sense, you know that?"

"I've been trying to _make_ all this make sense, but it doesn't," Remus explains, "There's not a right or wrong choice, there's just my choice, and I choose us,"

He's not great with choices. "You promise you choose it?" Tonks insists, "You're not just saying that because Harry told you or it's what your mum would want or 'cos you're scared I'll be furious if you say no?"

" _Won't_ you?"

"Of course I will. But I don't want to be married to you if you're only here out of fear or obligation or whatever,"

She's still stinging from his comment about her shouting at him enough to make him marry her. Another idea which has long been lurking, but that Tonks hadn't dare admit to herself, has now been shoved to the forefront of her mind: she is more in love with Remus than Remus is with her. It's always been her pushing for them and pursuing him. It's always been Remus who's hesitant. It's twice been him who's walked away.

The trouble is it'll always be an unknown. Tonks will never understand how he's feeling or what it's like inside his head, and she can't dig out a love-o-metre to compare how much they love each other. What good would that even do?

"I would never be with you out of fear. The being with you _is_ what I fear," Remus explains, "It isn't obligation either. I married you because I'm in love with you,"

Once, that would have melted her heart. Now it makes her wary.

"And you're here now because you're in love with me?" Tonks presses. She knows that it should be _him_ asking these questions: " _Will you take me back? Can you still love me?"._ But Mum was right yesterday- she can't put up with his flakiness forever. She can't take his word anymore. She can't trust that when Remus says he loves her, he's experiencing the same level of wonder and joy that she feels towards him.

"And because I want to have this life and this child with you, even though nothing frightens me more," he clarifies.

"You keep saying you're frightened," Tonks points out glumly. His fear outweighs his loyalty. What if it outweighs his love too?

"I should have said it a lot more," he says, which jars her- she expected him to deny it. "I should have told you all this weeks ago. I know I'm not good at saying this sort of stuff, and I can't change overnight, but I can tell you now that I was scared and I am scared, and I was scared that you weren't scared,"

"I wasn't scared? Merlin, I'm fucking terrified! Look at what's happened in the world this last week, you reckon I'm not panicking about bringing a baby into this mess? Having an actual child to feed and wash and shape into a vaguely sensible person, especially when this is all going on,"

"Yes, exactly," he agrees.

"And I'm scared about _you._ I'm afraid you'll bail on me again, and I'll probably always be afraid of that. I'm afraid of coming home to you tomorrow. I'm afraid that you're not as invested in this relationship as I am,"

Remus does a very un-Remus-y double-take.

"Well, it's not a shock, is it?" Tonks scoffs, "It's always been me chasing you. I know you prefer us to be private and you don't like talking about emotions and stuff. That's different, that doesn't count. I just think, in some ways, I love you more,"

Tonks was blurting it out until the last sentence, but now her face is burning. It's mortifying to admit. She feels like a kid admitting a crush on a teacher, except it feels a thousand times worse. Remus glances at her, then gazes out of the window and is still for a long and horrible moment. Tonks looks away and pinches her wrist to stop herself bursting into tears again. It's only now she's realising how dishonest they've both been over the past couple of years. This conversation is throwing into question everything about their relationship and about him. And that hurts more because she's always thought of Remus as safe and solid.

Finally, he exhales deeply and says, "I understand why I've made you feel that way. I'm ashamed that my actions would give you that impression, and I am ashamed that I entirely understand the reasons why,"

He lets this hang in the air, then adds solemnly, "Dora, I love you very, very much,"

She pinches her wrist harder. "Hmm,"

"I did want to marry you. You didn't make me. I'm terribly in love with you, although I understand that you might struggle to believe me at the moment,"

Tonks wants to eyeball him to make him squirm, but she finds that she can't. Instead, she stares at a spot a foot over his head and grunts, "Yeah,"

"I will spend the rest of my life proving how much I love you," Remus promises.

"You said that yesterday,"

"I meant it. I'm going to be more honest about what I'm scared of and more open about how much I appreciate you. It won't happen straight away, but I promise I'm going to try,"

Suddenly he seems decisive and in-control; it's almost as if he's in Professor Mode. It's jarring, and Tonks wonders if she should tell him to put a sock in it because it's _her_ who should be calling the shots. But he sounds like he's trying to fix himself, and isn't that what she should want? Tempting as it is to launch into another tirade at him, surely it's better to work out what they're going to do next? And how, if they can, to not let this horrible week ever happen again? She's still sticking with it being almost all Remus' fault, but clearly he needs her to make changes too. They'll work together. Come up with a strategy.

"I'll listen better too," Tonks promises, "I'm going to take stuff you say more seriously, and I'm going to interrupt you less. I need you to call me out on that one, yeah?"

Remus nods, and asks unexpectedly, "Can I write this down?"

"If you want,"

He produces a notebook and pen from his pocket and flicks to a blank page. Tonks could almost laugh- even in his pyjamas, he's still ready to take notes at any moment. He's one of the most bizarre people she has ever met, and Tonks feels love flutter inside her chest. Then she feels embarrassed by it.

Remus scribbles a couple of sentences down, then looks expectantly back at her.

"It's your turn, isn't it?" Tonks points out uneasily.

"I'm going to commit to having this baby with you no matter what," Remus announces after a moment's hesitation, "I'll take care of you, and I'll deal with everything werewolf- places we can move to, keeping us hidden, caring for it afterwards,"

Merlin's sake, the werewolf-baby fear _again._ Tonks wants to snap at him, but she stops herself. She's laid into him about that already, and now's the time to be productive, not provoked. This thought gives her another idea: "I'll try not to get pissed off at you. I won't get cross if you tell me to shut up or if you tell me you're scared of something, or even when you go all self-loathing,"

"But you can mention it to me. I want to know when I'm making you angry or upset," Remus insists.

"Alright, I'll tell you. Nicely. Can I give you one now?" Tonks asks, and when he nods she continues, "Be less scared that I'm going to give up on you. Don't pussyfoot around stuff because you're scared I'll leave you 'cos of it,"

"Right,"

"Because I just told you everything awful about you, and I'm still here," she pushes.

"I know,"

"So. Bear that in mind. Okay, you choose one for me now,"

Remus contemplates this. Then he grimaces. Then, he says, "I need you to stop telling me how great I am. I know you said you were done believing I'm perfect, so maybe that's an easy one. I told you it makes me panic, and like I said I'd much prefer it if you tell me when I make you confused or cross,"

He's right. She told him yesterday- she's done thinking he's perfect. As Tonks thinks this, she notes that there's a sense of relief. She smiles.

"Do you have any more ideas for either of us?" Remus asks. He seems perplexed by her grin, and Tonks wipes it from her face hurriedly.

"Nah. That's enough to be going on with,"

"Yes. I agree,"

"Well, then. Good work," she mumbles.

"I love you," Remus blurts. Tonks could roll her eyes, because he doesn't often just come out with it like that and it's blatant that he's trying to reassure her after what she said about loving him more than he loves her. She doesn't want him to say it to reassure her.

"You don't just have to say it because of what I said," Tonks mutters. She knows that he knows that this isn't something that he can convince her of instantly.

"I know. I'm not saying it to get back in your good books either, because it'll be a long time until I'm there. I'm saying it because it's true," Remus insists. He looks her in the eye and his gaze is determined, almost challenging.

"I love you too," Tonks sighs, because she does. Although at this moment, part of her wishes she wasn't.

Remus puts his notebook and pen back in his pocket. In a film, Tonks reckons, this is the moment where they'd snog passionately and dash back to the bedroom, or run outside into perfect sunlight and birdsong. Neither of those happens. Instead, there is a heavy, tense silence, until one of them insists on making yet another cup of tea.

* * *

 **Many thanks for your time. I would really appreciate it if you left a review.**


	41. The Human

The Human

"Do you mind if you're not the love of my life anymore?"

She was leaning against Remus' side while the baby drifted off to sleep on her lap after feeding. Tonks might have been biased, but she was pretty sure that Teddy was the most perfect human ever to exist. It was astonishing how much she liked this mothering lark. After all, she was hardly Molly Weasley when it came to domestic stuff, she'd anticipated dropping the kid on its face, and it was barely a secret that her own mother had liked babies so little that she'd stopped at one (when she was younger, Tonks had spent a grumpy afternoon moaning about this and nagging for a younger sibling, only to go off the idea when Dad pointed out that she'd have to share her toys). So much had happened during the pregnancy it had been easy to lose track of the fact that a physical human baby was going to turn up at the end of it, needing feeding and changing and burping. But he had turned up and honestly, being his mum was the best thing that had ever happened to Tonks. She loved his staring eyes. She loved that he was a human body in miniature. She loved cuddling him when he was warm and full and sleepy like this. Breastfeeding was complicated at first but they were getting the hang of it now, together. The fact that Teddy seemed to be permanently hungry was knackering, but at least it meant that they got a lot of practice at feeding, and it made Remus pleased.

"I like him being hungry," he'd tried to explain, "I feel like 'There's my son, he wants to grow up big and strong'. All a bit primal, isn't it?". Usually he hated anything animistic like that in himself, but he'd been grinning, and he grinned all the time these days. Tonks had never known him to be so contented and calm for so long. Their son was a real Daddy's boy already. Remus was the best at making him stop crying, and Teddy didn't kick so much when it was his dad changing his nappy. _Finally,_ Tonks thought, _there's somebody in the world who thinks you as marvellous as I do._

Mum was different too. She'd been doing that Black stiff-upper-lip stoicism since Dad died, and then breaking down every few days. She'd been _quiet_ too, which wasn't like her at all, and when she did speak she was detached and more impatient than usual, and then she'd get upset with herself for snapping. Her grandson seemed to have given her purpose again. Tonks, Remus and the baby were still living at Mum and Dad's house, so Mum was busy tidying up, organising the perplexingly huge amount of washing a tiny baby produced, or explaining to a flummoxed Remus how the gate on Teddy's cot worked.

And then there was Teddy himself, the most glorious person in the universe. He had Tonks' hair (well, sort of. It usually flickered between green and blue, and flared red when he was screaming) and Mum's eyes and everything else was Remus. He kicked a lot. He smelt soft and clean. His cried weren't a "Waaah!" but an "Eee-yar!". His grip was tiny and brittle and fierce. So far he hadn't weed on any of them when having his nappy changed, although apparently that joy would occur at some point. He didn't like silence, and was happiest when being sung to or hearing people talk; the radio and the record-player had certainly got a lot of use over the last few weeks.

Mum and Remus hated the "when all this is over" conversation. They both played the "well, we thought it was over last time" card, which made Tonks roll her eyes. What was the point of the Order and Potterwatch and getting on with their lives if they couldn't imagine what the world would be like when they'd won? When they did, when it _was_ over, Tonks would go back to work and Remus would stay home with Teddy. Tonks imagined coming home to them, her boys, to find Remus telling Teddy a story or playing him music. When Teddy got older Remus could play games and teach him to read, make things with him and take him to the playground. It wouldn't matter that he couldn't get a job because he'd be raising their child. Teddy was going to be so sweet and so smart, just like his dad. She could tell.

Right now, Remus was sitting beside her with a book on his knee, although he hadn't turned a page for about ten minutes. He'd been watching them Tonks and Teddy instead. He closed the book, rested his chin on top of Tonks' head, kissed his fingers and stroked them on Teddy's forehead.

"No. I don't mind at all".


	42. Shopworn Carpet

**Thank you to everybody who has read, reviewed and favourited so far. Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

Shopworn Carpet

It was rude to apparate into somebody's bedroom. Tonks did it anyway. CRACK- and she was standing on the shopworn carpet in Remus' tiny, tidy bedroom. A black suitcase (not his usual initialled one, Tonks noted) was open on the bed, half-filled with clothes. Remus was standing behind it, and wheeled round as Tonks appeared.

"Is it true?" she demanded before he could have the first word.

"Tonks, what are y-"

"Tell me if it's true! That you're going away,"

"Yes," his voice was oddly cool and his eyes didn't meet hers, "It's true,"

"To live with werewolves," Tonks probed. He nodded again. Tonks heard herself moan.

"Who told you?" Remus asked.

"Kingsley, just now. He says you've offered to spy on them for Dumbledore,"

"Dumbledore's concerned that Voldemort has recruited Greyback, and that might lead to a Death Eater pack. The Ministry's laws haven't helped keep the werewolves onside," Remus explained. His tone was almost indifferent. Tonks knew she sounded hysterical in comparison but she didn't care. How could he be leaving, and leaving for _there_ and _them?_ How could he be _folding his shirts_ while telling her this with such finality?

"Where are you going?" she pressed.

"North. Greyback leads a pack just outside Keswick,"

"And you've rung up the werewolf hotline, have you? Dumbledore's set you up with a penpal and now you're going for tea?"

"Dor- Tonks," he whispered, "I think you should go,"

"No. Tell me where exactly you're going and what you're doing. Dumbledore's not sending you on your own, is he?"

"I won't be alone, I'll be with them,"

"'Them' being Death Eater werewolves?"

"I'll be alright. They're like me, remember,"

Tonks leapt over the bed and yanked his collar, "You. Are nothing like them," she hissed. May-Eye had told her how Greyback relishes the full moon, sneaks into cottages to bite the children, or kill them if he fancies it. Young women are his other favourite, and after he's finished amusing himself with them they're usually too bruised and shaken to realise that they've been bitten as well. Greyback hates wizards and believes that werewolves can one day take over, although now it seems he's willing to compromise on authority if Voldemort does the legwork. How could Remus; sweet, unassuming Remus, be anything like him? Ginny's told her how he went out of his way to help Harry and be kind to Ginny and Neville during the year he taught at Hogwarts. He dreads the full moon, he bears no grudge against Snape for revealing his secret to the school, he was _so_ gentle when he and Tonks made love, he risks his security every day being part of the Order. Greyback is the animal and Remus is the man, even if they both transform every month.

"Merlin," she breathed, hands loosening on his shirt as a thought hit her, "He bit you". He'd told her about it once, before they were together. They'd been sitting on the back porch at Grimmauld Place and Remus had explained how his father offended Greyback and what had happened after. His voice had been steady with no hint of trauma.

"He'll kill you," Tonks choked out.

"Don't be overdramatic. It was thirty years ago, he won't remember. Greyback's bitten countless children since then and I doubt he keeps a record. Anyway, I'll be assuming a fake identity". Remus' voice was dismissive, almost scoffing.

"It'll all be fine then," she snarled.

"And if he does recognise me I imagine he'll be proud, he'll welcome me as his prodigal son,"

"Do you hate him?" Tonks heard herself ask.

"More than anybody on this Earth," he breathed. He paused, then asked, "Will you go now, please?"

"Tell me when you're leaving,"

"Friday morning,"

"I suppose you won't be writing,"

"Only to Dumbledore,"

"Right". She didn't ask when he was expecting to be back. Tonks prepared herself to say goodbye and disapparate, but before she could she heard herself blurt, "Is this about us?"

"I might be able to send word to Kingsley sometimes, I don't kn-" Remus continued quickly, as if she'd interrupted him.

Tonks eyeballed him. "Answer the question," she demanded darkly.

He fixed his gaze to a spot a foot above her head. "I don't know,"

"Liar,"

"Dumbledore needs a-"

"You're running away from us," Tonks accused, "What, you hope you'll forget about me? That's going to be Greyback's influence on you? Or d'you reckon you're setting me free, buggering off to let me fall in love with Bill or Mundungus or somebody? That's what you hope? Well I _won't,_ you know. It's you, it's always going to be you,"

She was shaking with rage; she hated his sanctimoniousness, his cowardliness, his I-know-what's-best-for-you-little-girl pomposity. She hated the way he was _standing there_ in his scruffy trousers and frayed shirt, looking sorry and scared and gorgeous, Merlin he's the most beautiful man on the planet, inside and out, and Tonks hadn't been his close to him for weeks, and before she could think she'd grabbed his collar again and was pulling him in because they _needed_ to be kissing, she needed-

His hands on her shoulders were firm.

"Dora," he said, finally looking her in the eye as he pushed her back down. His own green-brown pair were pained, "Please don't".

She wanted to melt into his ugly carpet. She wanted to haul Harry's invisibility cloak over herself. She wanted the twins' whole stash of Peruvian Instant Darkness powder to go off. Anything to stop Remus seeing her stupid, blushing face and the tears springing in her eyes. _Anything_ so she didn't have to see his expression, so dejectedly firm. So regretful and resigned. So sad.

This was bonkers. Her love for this impossible man had driven her mad. Before Tonks could think of anything else she realised that Remus' hands were still on her shoulders and suddenly she couldn't bear for him to be touching her for a moment longer. She shook him off roughly and backed away. She had to get out of there before she humiliated herself again, before she tortured them both further. He was going to make her miserable by going away but this was making things worse. She should have left when he'd asked her to, she should never have come at all. _He'd_ split up with _her_ weeks ago so why did she think she had any right to-

Thump.

In her haste to get away from him, Tonks tripped over the bed's leg and fell sprawling onto the floor. Remus didn't move to help her up. She lay there for a moment looking at his forlorn figure which was about to become so much more lost and lonely. Merlin, she loved him. The feeling suffocated her for a moment, and then Tonks had scrambled to her feet, grabbed her wand and stared at him as she whispered, "Expecto patronum,"

The flicker of insane love was the only reason she could summon it properly. A silver mist spurted from the end of Tonks' wand, floated shapelessly in mid-air for a moment, then morphed into its animal shape. She closed her eyes and disapparated.

Remus knew what the patronus was before it had fully formed. He'd seen his own translucent silver version of the same animal many times. He buried his head in his hands, as the silver wolf ambled slowly towards him.

* * *

 **Thanks for your time. This chapter was a bit of a labour of love and I'm not sure that the tenses were always correct. Reviews appreciated, have a great day.**


	43. The Picture

_"Hogwarts portraits behave like their subjects. The portrait will be able to use some of the subject's favourite phrases and imitate their general demeanour. However, these portraits would be capable of having a particularly in-depth discussion about more complex aspects of their lives: they are literally and metaphorically two-dimensional"._

\- JK Rowling on Pottermore

 _Well tonight I'm takin' requests here in the kitchen,_

 _This one's for you, Ma, let me come right out and say it,_

 _It's overdue, but baby_

 _If you're looking for a sad song, well I ain't gonna play it_

\- Bruce Springsteen, _The Wish_

The Picture

There's a picture of Teddy's parents on the Astronomy Tower staircase. Mum, Dad, Sirius, Emmeline, Fred Weasley and Mad-Eye Moody- Order of the Phoenix members who died during the Second War. Dumbledore and Snape have spots there too, although they're usually in their other (proper) portraits in the headmistress' office. Everyone expects the picture to make Teddy feel special and happy and like it makes things better. He's supposed to feel proud and, at first, he did. Teddy spent plenty of evenings in first-year sitting in front of the picture, looking at his parents and talking to them.

"We love you so much," Dad had said, "We are so proud of you". Mum had cried and told him how much she missed him. You weren't supposed to touch portraits but Mum liked Teddy to put his hand on the painting, and she'd hold her hand up too, like they were touching. Sometimes Teddy brought his friends to meet them (Mum didn't cry then), and at the end of second-year he'd asked their advice on what he should take for OWLs.

"Don't bother with Divination, it's a waste of time," Mum recommended.

"What did you get in it?" Teddy asked.

"Failed,"

"Same! High-five!" piped up Fred, holding his hand up. Mum slapped her against it.

"Muggle studies is a laugh, though. Really useful if you meet any Muggle girls around," Fred continued, winking.

"He sees our Muggle families though, don't you, Teddy?" insisted Mum, indicating herself and Dad.

"Yeah,"

"So, he doesn't really need to take an OWL in it,"

"What are you interested in?" asked Dad, sitting down in front of Teddy.

"Umm. Well, I like Herbology. I like Potions,"

"If you like Herbology perhaps you might like Care of Magical Creatures," Dad suggested.

"Muggle Studies and Magical Creatures? Soft options," scoffed Mad-Eye, "By all accounts you're a bright lad so it's Ancient Runes and Arithmancy for you,"

"There's no such thing as a soft option, although it's worth challenging yourself," said Dad.

"Care of Magical Creatures is a soft option?!" piped up Sirius, "Try running round with a werewolf once a month and see how soft _that_ is!"

That conversation had taken place a year and a half ago. Teddy's in fourth-year now (he took Ancient Runes and Divination for OWL) and the picture doesn't make anything better anymore. It makes everything worse.

Dad likes to go from portrait to portrait learning about the people in them. Teddy will often be walking down a corridor and hear Dad's voice call, "Hello, Teddy. Having a nice day?" from a picture frame. Then Dad'll want to introduce him to whichever portrait he's hanging out with.

"It's very interesting," he promises.

Or he wants to talk to Teddy about school and friends and whatever: "Hello, Teddy. What are you up to?"

"Going to my lesson, Dad. What does it look like?" Teddy mutters. He can't be bothered to talk to him; Dad isn't going to say anything useful or meaningful. He never does.

Mum tends to stay in the Astronomy Tower picture, which means there's less chance of unexpectedly meeting her around the castle. But Mum is so _embarrassing_. She gets excited every time she sees Teddy, waves like a nutcase and yells at Mad-Eye, Emmeline and the others to come over to look at him, see how tall he's getting, how cool his hair looks today (he's starting morphing his hair brown when he passes the picture). His friends think it's cute.

"Hi, Teddy's Mum! Hi, Teddy's Dad!" they call, or "It's _so_ cool your parents hang out with Dumbledore," or "Your Mum's pretty fit, Ted".

His friends don't understand. Nobody understands because nobody spent those hours in first and second year hanging off the picture's every word, so nobody's realised that their words are empty. The figures in the picture are like a broken toy, saying the same things again and again. "Hello, Teddy. Having a nice day?" "How's your homework going?" "Wotcher, Teddy! Wotcher, Teddy!". Teddy hates her saying that. Must be something she picked up at school, or one of Grandad's phrases, because Granny never says it. Grandad doesn't have a portrait. Wotcher, Teddy. Watch-ya, Teddy. Watch you, Teddy. They're always watching him.

They're always happy too, which frustrates Teddy. Mum and Dad weren't always happy- they got angry and confused and upset like normal people. _Real_ people. The people in the picture are not real. A couple of days before the Christmas holiday last year Teddy had caught them snogging in a frame outside Transfiguration. The frame was empty apart from the two of them, but it was still in a busy corridor, and it had made Teddy angry because he knows that his real parents would never have been that open. Everybody who knew them has told him that Dad would hardly touch Mum in public, let alone kiss her. That's the version of them we wants, not this lie. The liars in the portrait taunt him about what he doesn't have. They look like his parents but they're not- they're wrong. They're not even a picture, they're a cartoon. Harry would say it's better having the portrait than having nothing at all, but Harry would say that, wouldn't he?

* * *

It's Wednesday afternoon and Teddy's halfway down the Astronomy tower stairs before he realises that he's left his textbook back up in the classroom. Bollocks. They only started having Astronomy theory lessons this year. They're in the daytime, which is a relief because Teddy always feels exposed on top of the tower at night. In first-year there were whispers behind his back during night-time Astronomy lessons; kids muttering about the moon and the mongrel boy. Murmurs like that had followed him round a lot in the first couple of years of school, and Vic gets them now, though while Teddy ignores the whisperers and sniggerers, Vic confronts them. Like a lot of things about Vic, Teddy kind of likes it and kind of finds it irritating.

Teddy mumbles an apology to his friends and jogs back upstairs to the classroom. He elbows open the classroom door, stammers an explanation to Professor Sinistra, grabs his textbook from where he left it on his desk, and dashes out of the room. He's late for Potions now and hurtling down the stairs, forgetting that the picture is waiting for him on the landing. Until a voice calls out to him.

"Wotcher, Teddy! What's up?"

Teddy cringes.

"Teddy! Hi!" yells the voice again. It's The Woman- he's trying to stop thinking of them as Mum and Dad. Teddy can hear the next class clattering up the stairs. He doesn't want them to hear The Woman calling after him, so he decides to talk to her for a moment so he can shut her up before the next class get here.

"What do you want?" Teddy growls. Snape and Dumbledore aren't there but all the rest are. Sirius and Fred are tossing Moody's eye to each other, while Mad-Eye grumbles at them. The Man is chatting to Emmeline.

The Woman's gazing at Teddy dreamily. "You're getting so grown-up. Come here and let me look at you,"

Teddy doesn't move.

"You're so handsome. You look just like your Dad. Mad-Eye, don't you think he's handsome?"

(Next time, Teddy thinks grimly, he will morph himself as ugly as he possibly can). Everybody in the picture turns to look at him. The Man's smile is sad.

"How much is your real face? Come on, you can tell me," stage-whispers The Woman, "I promise I won't tell anybody,"

Her friendly, conspiratorial tone makes something inside Teddy snap.

"Stop it! Stop it now!" Teddy shouts.

Everybody in the picture jumps.

"Sorry, mate," grins The Woman, "I'm your Mum, it's my job to embarrass you,"

"You're not my Mum," Teddy snarls.

"Well, that's not very-"

"SHUT UP!" Teddy bellows, "Shut up shut up shut _up!_ You're not my Mum! My Mum's _dead_ so will you shut up and leave me alone!"

He kicks the wall beside the picture so hard that it hurts. Teddy swears under his breath, then swears loudly at the people in the picture, turns and storms away down the stairs. He puts his head down and doesn't look back.

The Man calls after him in a maddeningly gentle tone, "It's alright, Teddy, it's alright. I'm sorry. Listen, let's-"

The Man's voice is lost in the sound of the footsteps and chattering of the next Astronomy class. Teddy pushes through the crowd of sixth-year Gryffindors and hurries on down the stairs. Frustration and satisfaction and pain are buzzing around inside him. He didn't know how much everything he'd said had been weighing on him until now, when he's got the weight off his shoulders. Teddy knows that he's supposed to feel guilty for shouting and swearing and saying those things to them. Granny would tell him it was rude and hurtful and ungrateful. Teddy Lupin doesn't feel guilty at all, and arrives in Potions with a smirk on his face.


	44. Autumn Leaves

Autumn Leaves

 _November 2007_

The toddlers are getting rowdy, so Hermione sets down her plate and wanders into the kitchen, leaving the two Weasleys in charge of the children. It's Guy Fawkes Night, one of the Muggle traditions which Harry and Hermione have managed to introduce to their families. They- Hermione, Ron, Rose, Ginny, Harry, James, Albus and Teddy, are at Harry and Ginny's house for a bonfire. The kids helped to build it earlier, although that mostly descended into stick-fights and jumping in leaves. George has given them a box of Wildfire Whizzbangs and Harry's up in the attic hunting for sparklers.

Hermione leans on the kitchen counter and looks out into the garden. It's bigger than the one her own house. Hermione wanted to stay in London, while Harry and Ginny prefer the countryside. Rose, Hermione thinks irritably, likes the countryside too.

There's a noise from behind her and Hermione turns, wand raised- it never leaves you- but it's only Ron. He's looking sheepish and holding out Hemione's half-full plate.

"You left your pizza," he explains, "I didn't know if you wanted to finish it,"

"You have it," Hermione says disinterestedly. Ron looks momentarily puzzled, then sets the plate down on the counter.

"Can I stay?" he asks tentatively. Hermione glances at him and nods, and he moves to lean beside her, though far enough away so that they don't touch. They've been fighting a lot lately. Not their usual friendly bickering but proper arguments. There's so much to deal with for a two-year-old: bottles, nappies, toys, bibs, plasters. Rose is in a throwing phase so her food usually ends up on the floor. Hermione snaps at her, and Ron tells her not to talk to their daughter like that.

"Well sorry we can't all be Molly Weasley, Ron. Sorry _I_ actually find being a mother really hard," she'd spat at him the other day.

"Yeah, must be tough looking after her all day- oh no, you're at work so it's _me_ who feeds her and changes her and takes her to the park," he snarled.

"Wow, Order of Merlin for you,"

"I'm just saying, it's-"

"For once, would it kill you to support me?"

"Merlin's sake, not this _again._ What's staying home to look after our daughter if it isn't supporting you and your career?" Ron had huffed.

"I'm _good_ at my career! I know what I'm doing at the Ministry, but I don't have a clue how to be a parent. It's supposed to get easier once they get older but it's getting more exhausting," she groaned. Ron opened his mouth and Hermione snapped, "And don't tell me that I'm just jealous because you're better at this than I am,"

"I wasn't going to say anything like that". He sounded hurt and Hermione winced at herself. Next-door in the living room, they'd heard Rose start to cry.

"I'll get her," Ron muttered.

"No, I'll-"

"Hermione. I'll get her,"

They fight over if Rose is ill, if she's growing out of her shoes, if they should let her get away with not wearing her coat outside. It was been her birthday last month and they'd argued about what present to get her. On her birthday itself, once they were home from her party at the Burrow and Rose was in bed, Ron had suggested that now she was two they might start considering having another baby. Naturally, that had turned into an argument. Of course Ron wanted more children, Hermione had thought bitterly, he was a Weasley; siblings were like walls or clouds to him, a natural fixture in life. Hermione was, like Rose, an only girl, and there was something oddly comforting about that. In the moments when she looked at her daughter and thought that she would never understand her, at least they had this one shared experience. And parenting was so exhausting and repetitive, and had made them so fractious with each other, that now was a terrible time to discuss having more children. Hermione told Ron that she refused to try for another baby until Rose was older. Ron had backpedalled and promised, "Okay, I get it, your choice," but he'd looked worried, like reaching thirty with only one child to show for it was a failure. It doesn't help that Harry and Ginny are already expecting baby number three.

Hemione thinks of that now, watching through the kitchen door as Rose plays with her cousins. At three and a half, James is a chunky, jolly boy, and he's jumping on the sofa beside Rose (Hermione's noticed, with a glint of pride which seems too nasty to say out loud, that Rose's vocabulary is nearly as good as James' already). Albus, who don't be two until June, tries to climb up to join them but he can't reach. He's smaller and slighter than James; more stroppy and sensitive. Before Al can get cross about being left out, Teddy, whose been half-playing with the toddlers and half-talking to Ginny, scoops him up and plonks him onto his knee. Teddy loves Ginny, always has. He loves babies too, and he always wants to touch Ginny's stomach to feel her baby kick. Hermione remembers him doing the same with her when she was pregnant with Rose. Teddy whispers something to Albus and lifts the baby onto his feet so he's standing on Teddy's bony kneecaps.

"He'd have been a good big brother," says Ron. Hermione jumps- she'd forgotten he was there.

Her eyes flick sideways to where Ron's looking through the doorway too. Hermione suspects he's getting at the having-more-children conversation again, so she mumbles, "Yes,"

"It's not fair they're not here, is it?" Ron asks quietly.

"No," Hermione agrees, "It's not fair we have this and they didn't". She considers that a lot. The distance of time illuminates the randomness and unfairness of everything that happened.

"What d'you think they'd be doing if they were here?" Ron asks.

"Tonks would probably still be an Auror," says Hermione, "She could have been your boss,"

He'd only stayed at the Ministry for a couple of years. Harry, they all knew, didn't know how to do anything but fight, but Ron had his family. He had George. After two years, Ron had packed in at the Auror department and gone to help his brother run the joke shop. He'd been good at that and had enjoyed it more than being an Auror. When Rose was a baby he'd strapped her to his chest when at the shop, leaving everybody amused and Hermione impressed. Now Rose is more mobile and destructive, Ron's working from home, managing orders and stock from the kitchen. Sometimes he says he misses the shop floor, but for the most part he's happy and settled and enjoys being a work-from-home dad.

"Lupin would have been chuffed about everything you've done for werewolf rights," Ron ejaculates. Hermione looks at him sharply.

"He would," Ron repeats.

"That's why I do it," she tells him.

"I know,"

"I think about him all the time," Hermione says softly, "How lonely he must have been for so long,"

"Yeah. And then he meets this Auror with pink hair and they get married and have a kid and then they aren't even here to enjoy it". He sounds more irritated than angry, using the sulky tone he often spoke in when they were teenagers. In the living room, Teddy sets Albus back on the floor and turns to Ginny again. He can be shy sometimes, but get him going and he asks loads of questions and he likes telling stories, especially if it's Ginny listening or answering his questions. Hermione looks forward to when Rose is that age, but nine and a half is a long way from two.

"D'you reckon they would have been happy? They wouldn't have split up or something," says Ron.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, it was a shotwand wedding and you know what Mum says about that. He was about twenty years older, he was a professor. She was always making her nose look like a pig's,"

"Perhaps that's what they liked about each other," Hermione suggests.

"Yeah, maybe. Dunno, though,"

"Ron, what's your point?"

"That it's sad that they never going to be anything more than married for a year with a tiny baby. Would they have liked being parents? Would they have had more kids? Would they have gone through something like we are now?"

It's reassuring to hear him word it like that; just something they're going through, just a phase. Hermione throws him a small smile. "Maybe. What do you reckon?"

"Don't know. Lupin always seemed calm, didn't he, but he obviously wasn't when it came to her and Teddy. One minute he's ditching her when she's pregnant, next she's had the baby and he's the happiest we ever saw him,"

"It wasn't the next minute, it was months later," Hermione corrects.

"Point still stands. The whole thing was a coller-roaster for him. What are you smirking at?"

"It's called a roller-coaster,"

"Yeah, that," he corroborates unashamedly.

His daft mistakes make her laugh. She's always envied the way Ron talks with such casualness. He's not embarrassed by mistakes or mispronunciations. Ron Weasley exists with an ease that Hermione has never had.

"We can take Rose on one to when she's older. Take them all to the funfair," Ron suggests.

Hermione tries to arrange her face into an expression which suggests that a day at a funfair with a bunch of small children doesn't sound excruciating. Thankfully, she's spared from having to answer by the arrival or Harry, bounding down the stairs clamping a box of sparklers under his arm.

"Found them," he grins, "What are you two doing in here?"

Ron and Hermione glance at each other.

"Never mind," Harry says hastily, walking past them through the kitchen door, "James, guess what Daddy's got for later?"

The three-year-old springs off the sofa and onto the floor to investigate. "What this, Daddy?"

Hary puts the box onto the carpet and opens it up to show James.

"Cool, sparklers," chirps Teddy, "Ron, Hermione, come see!"

Hermione looks at Ron again. He shrugs and half-smiles. _Would they have gone through something like we are now?_ She doesn't know. But she does know that she and Ron have got through worse, and they'll get through this. Hermione half-smiles back at him, and they together they walk back into the living-room.


	45. Ash Wednesday

Ash Wednesday

Remus filed out of church with the rest of the congregation. The weather outside was crisp and bright- Winter, but not impossible to see Spring approaching. Remus was on nodding terms with some of the churchgoers, and he could see Mrs Daniels waving, and the youngest Oleywo boy smiling at him from over the biggest brother's shoulder. Remus smiled back, waved at Mrs Daniels, then walked through the gate and onto Coley Road. He'd always enjoyed going to church. As a child he'd enjoyed the singing and stories, although his family never stayed in one place long enough to join the choir or Sunday school. He read the children's Bible at home instead. It was comforting to know that God was out there somewhere and everywhere, looking after him. God helped him feel safer and braver when the wolf came at full moon. God stopped him hurting anybody and stopped anyone from finding out. God made him be a good boy. God helped Mammy and Daddy take care of him, and He looked after the poor and the sick and the lonely. And when an old, bearded man appeared one day and told Remus he could come to Hogwarts, Remus thought for a moment that He had come down from Heaven to make his prayers come true.

Remus hadn't liked to talk about his faith at school. He prayed under the covers in bed, not on his knees beside it, and kept his Bible hidden at the bottom of his trunk. Sirius, however, had wheedled the truth out of him after the Christmas holidays of their first year. Remus was embarrassed, but knew it was far from the worst secret he had to hide from his new friends. James' family were vaguely religious too, but he hadn't gone to church and didn't really believe. Sirius was fascinated with it all- "sacred" pureblood families were scathing towards religion, so Sirius' Christmases and Easters had always been secular affairs. He pestered Remus for Bible stories and explanations of Christian traditions- "Feeding five thousand? He must have been using an engorgement charm," "So what does this Crucifixion thing have to do with chocolate eggs?" "I can't wait until they teach us that water into wine spell!". Realising that James, Peter and Remus all had a Bible character as a first or middle name, he flicked through Remus' Bible for inspiration and tried to rebrand himself as Tilgathpilnesser Black. It didn't catch on. Remus didn't mind Sirius' curiosity, but it made him uncomfortable when Sirius would question him seriously, "Do you actually believe all this? I mean _really?"_

"Well, yes," Remus murmured.

"Fascinating," marvelled Sirius, _"Amazing"._

It was a very different Sirius Black whom Remus had made pancakes for last night at Grimmauld Place. Padfoot was in a mopey, moany mood, and clingy too. When Remus was mixing the pancake batter Sirius had come up behind him and wordlessly put his head on Remus' shoulder.

"You're not putting doxy droppings in my pocket, are you?" Remus asked.

Sirius sighed. "No,"

Remus put the whisk down and poured the batter into the frying pan. "You flip first," he offered.

"I'm good at tossing," said Padfoot seriously, then grinned. Crass humour always cheered him up.

They made four pancakes each, slathered them in jam and chocolate spread and ate them at the kitchen table.

"What's pancake day in aid of?" Sirius asked through a mouthful of strawberry jam (sometimes his table manners were awful. Remus suspected that it was a reaction to being back in the house; a continued effort to annoy his family).

"You use up your butter and milk in time for Lent,"

"What's Lent?"

"It's when Jesus went into the wilderness. You're supposed to give something up- chocolate or alcohol or such,"

"Well, you're not giving up chocolate and I'm not giving up booze," Padfoot declared. Remus shrugged, but Sirius pressed on, _"Are_ you giving something up, then?"

"Haven't thought," Remus lied. He'd given it a lot of consideration, but he couldn't say it out loud to Sirius. What Remus _had_ decided to give up, was Tonks. From now on he wasn't not going to think about her in the way he had been for the past few weeks. It had reached a stage now where she was always somewhere in his mind. Whenever something strange or funny happened, Remus wanted to tell her about it. He wanted to make her laugh. He imagined Tonks' laugh a lot but he still found himself wanting to hear it for real. He wondered what it was like inside her head. She came out with the most ludicrous things and Remus was intrigued to know how her brain thought of them. She didn't stop talking, which had irritated Remus at first, but now he wanted to listen to her all the time. He wanted to know all about her, hear everything she had to say. Remus wasn't sure when or how this had started, but he was putting a stop to it before he got in any further (he was too far in already) or did anything stupid to upset her or humiliate himself. The trouble was that although Remus knew that this infatuation was wrong, it didn't feel wrong. It felt good. Thinking about Tonks made his insides squirm with pleasure, and spending time with her made his heart skip and his brain whirr excitedly. She was so exciting.

He kept imagining what it would feel like to kiss her. Hold her. Do more with her. That was even more bewildering because thinking about it felt good, but the goodness was also guilty and dirty. Wanting her like that was the wolf in him taking control. At first Remus had tried to think of those unclean thoughts more, to allow the guilt to remind himself how wrong his attraction to Tonks was- but then he was back to enjoying thinking about her. It had made him dizzy, so he'd scrapped that idea and tried to stick to safer reasons why thinking about Tonks in that way was wrong: She was younger than him (she'd turned twenty-three over Christmas. Remus would be thirty-six in a couple of weeks. Fancying her was borderline creepy, especially since Sirius seemed convinced that Remus knew her when she was a child), she had her whole future in front of her (it was hardly a secret that Mad-Eye was priming Tonks to head up the Auror office one day), she was probably seeing someone else (there was definitely a boyfriend- or perhaps girlfriend? Remus wasn't sure- over the Summer, because Sirius teased her about it. Remus wasn't sure if that romance was still going). Tonks wouldn't in a million years be interested in an older, penniless, boring werewolf.

But. _But._ She hung out (her phrase) with him on the back porch a few times a week. More often than somebody who simply pitied him would. She laughed at his jokes. Sometimes Remus snuck glances at Tonks to find her looking back, and when she glanced away embarrassedly a mad part of him had started to reckon that wasn't because she was ashamed that he'd caught her watching him and thinking about the monster he turned into. The mad bit of Remus' brain reckoned that Tonks was looking away because she was flustered that he'd caught her gazing at him. Eyeing him up- and then Remus was half amused, half-irritated at himself for being so presumptuous, and for daring to entertain the idea that there might be anything about him at all to eye up.

Sitting in his pew in church the past few weeks, Remus had tried to pray it away. _Please God, stop me thinking about Tonks like this. Stop my heart hammering so loud for her. Please let her meet somebody sensible and fun and nice, and let her go out with them so I get the message. And please God, please keep her safe._ And then the vicar started the Lord's prayer and Remus realised that hadn't spent any of the time for quiet personal prayers praying for the poor or the sick or the lonely, or for Sirius or Harry or any of his friends. He'd spent the whole time praying about Tonks.

Last Sunday Remus realised that God wasn't going to sort this out for him. He'd have to do it himself, and Ash Wednesday was the day to put a stop to this nonsense. He'd still be polite to Tonks, of course, but their chats on the Grimmauld Place back porch were a thing of the past. With enough determination and concentration, this infatuation would burn out. Come Easter he'd have forgotten all about this childishness. Remus walked down Coley Road and, having checked to see that nobody was watching, apparated home to his cottage. As he hung his coat up he noticed a letter on the doormat. The handwriting was Kingsley's. Remus ripped the envelope open quickly in case the news was urgent.

 _R- Change of plans for next week. Podmore on guard duty and you and Tonks on observation at the Averys. Hope convenient. K._

He should have expected this. When Christ was in the wilderness, resisting temptation was hard.

Remus groaned.


	46. Married Life: Phobos

**Warnings for sex, language, and werewolves. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

" _[Lupin] swung constantly between elation that he was married to the woman of his dreams and terror of what he might have brought upon them both,"_

 _-_ JK Rowling on _Pottermore._

 _When the world has dealt its cards,_

 _If the hand is hard, together we'll mend your heart,_

 _Because when the sun shines, we'll shine together,_

 _Told you I'd be here forever,_

 _Said I'll always be your friend._

\- Rihanna, _Umbrella._

 _"[Lupin] swung constantly between elation that he was married to the woman of his dreams and terror of what he might have brought upon them both"._

-JK Rowling on Pottermore.

Married Life: Phobos

Married life hasn't turned out how Tonks anticipated, although most things haven't turned out how she expected them to.

Their wedding day was Saturday 12th July 1997. She wants to write it on every parchment she can find, mark it on every calendar, tattoo it on her arms. 120797, 120797. Anyway, Remus had had a meltdown that evening and they'd spent their wedding night talking and sharing stories. Back in the Hufflepuff dormitories when Tonks was a teenager her friends had chatted about their dream wedding night, and Tonks' definitely had not featured holding her new husband while he cried and assuring him that their wedding had not ruined her life. Remus hadn't been much better when they'd made their way home on Sunday (a honeymoon wasn't on the cards); he was half-subdued half-jittery and he kept shooting Tonks nervous glances. He didn't say anything troubling out loud, though she wasn't sure if that was a relief or more of a worry.

As usual, he was still asleep when she left for work on Monday morning. She looked at him sadly, curled in bed, his hair looking greyer against the white pillow. _It'll be alright,_ she promised herself, _he just needs to adjust_. He wasn't like her, he needed time to get used to change. He'd come round.

Everybody had agreed that given Scrimgeour's anti-werewolf leanings their marriage was best kept secret outside of families and the Order, so Tonks had to pretend at work that she'd had an ordinary weekend doing the gardening and hanging out with friends. Kingsley usually stayed away from her at work, careful that them being seen to talk to each other too much would arouse suspicion that they were up to something, but he gave her a big smile as he strolled into the office that morning. Most of the day was taken up filing the paperwork from the previous weeks' arrests and investigations. The previous week. When she hadn't been married. Before Saturday 12th July 1997. Tonks felt herself grin in spite of everything.

When she got home that evening, she'd barely had time to step out of the fireplace before Remus dashed into the living room, grabbed her and snogged her hungrily. His mouth was insistent and his hands were everywhere and she felt him scoop her up and carry her into the bedroom. He tossed her on the bed and climbed on top and "Yes _,"_ Tonks mumbled, "Finally" _._ He was pulling at her t-shirt and stroking her waist, kissing her again and again.

"Wait," she murmured, pushing him away for a moment while she took off the necklace she'd been keeping her wedding ring on at work, unhooked the ring and slipped it back on her finger.

Remus beamed and pressed the ring to his lips, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles in that lovely way he always did. "My wife,"

Then his mouth was back on hers, on her jaw, her throat. He was rummaging in her shirt and sliding his hands up her back to unhook her bra. He'd never been like this before- Tonks had no idea what was with him but she wasn't complaining. She groped for his belt and shirt buttons but he stopped her.

"No. Just you,"

"I-"

"Shh," he mumbled. He'd never shushed her before and Tonks would have snapped at him for it, except he continued, "Just you this time. Okay?"

He stamped a kiss to her mouth.

"Okay," she agreed. Remus grinned and peeled her clothes off and kissed her all over, mumbling that she was beautiful, he wanted her, he loved her. His touch was tantalisingly light and his kisses started softly sweet then became hot and open-mouthed. He was saying all these things to her that he hadn't said like this before, and they were _married_ now, he was hers forever, and his tongue and his fingers were on her, inside her, teasing and stroking and loving. She'd never come so hard in her life. Then he let her undress him, and crawled over her again and made fast, frantic love to her. The headboard smacked against the wall but they were sighing and giggling and moaning too loud to notice. Afterwards Tonks was breathless and glowing and _God,_ could they do that again please? Remus was still on top of her and inside her, face burrowed into her neck as he mouthed languid kisses against her skin, panting.

"That was _good,"_ she breathed, "This isn't like you,"

Remus peeled his face away from her neck and looked at her (Merlin's beard, he was handsome. How on Earth did she get this lucky?). He cocked a mischievously questioning eyebrow, which was so un-Remus-y that she had to laugh.

"No, I didn't mean like that. I mean what's brought all this on?"

Remus grinned his rarely-seen Marauder grin and said, "I fucking love you,"

Tonks had hardly ever heard him swear, and even then only the odd 'bloody' or 'bastard' under his breath. If this was a new version of Remus who swore and instigated rough sex then count her in. Tonks didn't say that out loud, she just grinned back and replied, "Good, because I love fucking you,"

Remus burst out laughing, spluttering so hard he had to pull out of her and flop onto his back on the mattress, and they guffawed together at the daft joke until the laughter became lost in kisses. They spent the rest of the evening in bed, only getting up to collect the pizza they ordered in because neither could be bothered to cook. Back in the bedroom, Remus produced the bottle of champagne the Weasleys had sent.

"I'll get some glasses," he said, starting to stand up.

Tonks put her hand on his arm. "I don't think we'll need them,"

She winked and he grinned, handing her the bottle.

Tonks put her hand over his. "Together?"

"Together,"

She snuggled closer to him, giggling, and pressed a kiss to his jaw. "I'm crazy about you,"

Remus beamed, kissed her back, and they popped the cork loudly so that the champagne sputtered out of the bottle. They drank it straight from the bottleneck and poured it over each other to lick off. Usually Remus could only manage one round of sex a day, but they made love again, sticky and tipsy from the champagne. Tonks climbed on top, panting that he looked incredible, he tasted and smelt and felt incredible, everything was incredible.

The next four days were what Tonks was pretty sure were the definition of wedded bliss. Remus beamed constantly and told her over and over that he loved her. They'd agreed she wasn't changing her name but he kept calling her Mrs Lupin, and coming from him it sounded perfect. Panic at the Ministry was reaching fever-pitch, but what did that matter when Tonks came home to find that Remus had picked flowers for the kitchen table, sketched a portrait of her, or doodled silly comic strips starring them both? He cooked, he fixed the leek in the bathroom ceiling Tonks meant to sort out months ago, and on Wednesday afternoon he flicked the radio on and pulled her into a dance around the kitchen, dolloping kisses on her and chuckling when she trod on his toes. Evenings were spent snuggled on the sofa drinking tea or wine, talking and snogging and laughing. They had hot, loving sex every night and afterwards she'd fall sleep in his arms while he stroked her hair and gazed at her with a dopey smile. _I knew this would happen,_ Tonks thought proudly, _I knew I'd make you truly happy._

The full moon was due on Sunday, so by Friday morning he was getting fatigued and achy. When Tonks got home in the afternoon Remus was lying on his back on the living room floor with his head resting on a stack of books. His eyes were closed but his breathing was too controlled for him to be asleep.

"Back pain?" Tonks asked, recognizing the position as one he used to take the weight off his neck.

"Hmmpf," he croaked, half-acknowledgement half-groan.

"How is it?"

"Same as usual. Turns out lumbago isn't one of those things that feels different after you get married,"

Tonks laughed, sat down cross-legged on the floor, took his hand and kissed it. Remus' eyes fluttered open momentarily as he gave her a weak smile. "Anything happen at work?"

"Everything happened at work," she told him, keeping hold of his hand, "Security's gone through the roof. Scrimgeour came round to our office today to give us all a stern word,"

"They're the only kind of words he has," Remus noted.

"Thank God for Kingsley. He left me a note to say congrats today, and he sends you his best. Have you eaten?"

"I had soup for lunch,"

"Okay, well I picked up some chicken breast and spuds on the way home,"

"Thanks,"

"Also perhaps a bar of chocolate or two,"

His eyes flickered open again. "You're wonderful,"

Tonks pressed another kiss to the back of his hand. "So are you,"

"Please don't burn dinner,"

"Hey," she protested. He was much better at cooking than she was. She was about to say something else but he winced uncomfortably.

"You good?" she asked.

Remus screwed his face up, made the noise again then exhaled. Then he said, "I think you mean 'Are you well?',"

She rolled her eyes, but was relieved that he was alright enough to correct her grammar. "Thanks, Professor. What shall we do tonight?"

He considered for a while. Then he said, "Do you think you could read to me?"

"Yeah. Yeah, course I will,"

Remus squeezed her hand, "Thank you,"

The book he was reading that week was a Muggle novel called _The House of Mirth._ He was two-thirds of the way through so Tonks didn't have much idea what was going on, and the story seemed pretty boring anyway. But Remus liked boring books. It was American so Tonks performed it in an assortment of American accents, which made him laugh, and making Remus laugh was the best thing she could do for him. He perked up after dinner and they had another happy evening nestled on the sofa, his head in her lap, kissing her fingers while they listened to the radio. Remus went to bed early, telling her that he'd probably still be awake when she came to bed later.

"So don't worry about being quiet," he added.

"Nah, I'll sleep on the sofa,"

"Don't be daft,"

"I'm not. You're tired, you're ill, you need the space,"

"I'm not turfing you out of your own bed," Remus protested.

"Not mine. It's ours now,"

He gave Tonks one of those looks which made her stomach do something which was probably a flutter but about fifty times more violent. She wasn't sure what he was going to say next and she didn't think she wanted to hear it.

"More to the point we both know you're going to be awake tossing and turning all night, and I want to _sleep,"_ she said firmly, "I'll have the sofa,"

Remus itched his shoulder thoughtfully, considering. Eventually he said in a resigned sort of voice, "Well alright, if you insist,"

He didn't sound happy about it, but he fetched her the spare duvet anyway.

* * *

Sunday evening rolled around. The moon was set to rise at six minutes to nine. At half eight Remus was sitting on the bed, eyes closed, inhaling and exhaling steadily. Tonks was leaning on the doorframe and watching him carefully.

When he realised she was there he said miserably, "I suppose you've never seen me do this without Wolfsbane,"

"No,"

"Well, I'll apparate off to the forest at about twenty to,"

"Which forest?"

"Sometimes Galloway, sometimes Kielder. Argyll on occasion. Variety is the spice of werewolf transformations,"

He was trying to sound brave. He _was_ brave, Tonks reminded herself. He went through this painful, violent, humiliating ritual every month. He was the bravest person she'd ever met. Tonks watched him do his breathing exercises, and when he opened his eyes she told him, "I love you,"

Remus didn't reply.

"Say it back to me," Tonks prompted, going over to him but resisting the temptation to put a consoling hand on his shoulder.

He looked perplexed but obeyed; "I love you too,"

"No, you muppet. Tell me you know that _I_ love you,"

"Oh, right. You love me,"

"Again," she insisted. He had to know. He had to have said it and felt it and had those words in his mouth to keep her love with him through the night.

"My wife Nymphadora loves me very much," Remus recited.

"She does. Enough to let you off calling her by her first name. How much time do you have?" she asked, sitting down beside him and taking his hand.

He glanced at his watch, "A bit less than ten minutes,"

"We can work with that. Do you want me to do anything?" Tonks asked, "To-remind you of how- much I- love you". She lifted his hand up and interspersed every few words with a kiss to the inside of his wrist. He liked kisses there

Remus smiled, looking amused. "No, thanks. I don't think I'd be up to much anyway,"

Oh. She'd forgotten that he went off sex around the full moon. Tonks pecked his cheek. "We can save it up for when you feel better,"

"Alright," he said, then added with a jolt of realization, "Err, do you? Need- want- you know?"

She laughed. "Nah, it's fine,"

"Right. Good," he said awkwardly.

"You're funny," Tonks told him. He'd been much keener on sex most of this week, so she'd forgotten how cute his awkwardness about it could be.

It wasn't funny a little later, when he apparated away clutching his wand and a tatty blanket.

"I'll see you in the morning," Remus told her, and she hated that he was using his reassuring tone with her when it was him who needed consoling.

"Yeah. I- I don't know what to say," she mumbled.

"That's a first," he said, but his smirk was wan.

"Stay safe. God, that's a stupid thing to tell you," she said, running a hand through her hair.

"You'll get used to this," said Remus. The smirk disappeared and he looked pale and rather shocked at himself, "I have to go now,"

He disapparated abruptly before Tonks could tell him she loved him again. Her living room seemed suddenly cavernous and quiet. Lonely, which was stupid because she'd _lived here_ alone until less than a fortnight ago. Sighing, Tonks drew the curtains and took her watch off. She set the timer for the oven to go off at five past eight so she didn't have to know the exact moment that the moon rose. She flicked the radio on, but that made her feel nervous. Tonks tried to read the spy novel she was halfway through, but after ten minutes she realised she'd read the same page over and over, registering none of the words. Sighing, she tossed the book down and resolved to lift weights for a while- you had to be fit for Auror training, and at least it would occupy her body if not her brain.

Exercising worked, but Tonks was frustrated to realise that weights, sixty sit-ups and sixty chin-ups only took half an hour. She picked up the battered copy of _The House of Mirth,_ although that made her think of Remus, and what he must be feeling right now. What would he be doing? She should have asked. Nothing was more heartbreaking than imagining the sweetest, kindest man in the world being bruised and bashed as the wolf inside him tried to get out. It was a million times worse now he wasn't on medication- he'd told how when he came round as human again he sniffed and licked the blood on him arms, hoping desperately that it was his own. Nobody deserved that, especially not her beautiful husband. Tonks twisted her wedding ring nervously around her finger. Remus was right when he told her she'd get used to this. It was like exams or periods or cigarettes- the first one was nerve-wracking and disorientating, but you got used to it. But the thought of Remus' body being ripped apart didn't seem like something she'd ever get used to.

It was an awful night. Tonks changed into her pyjamas and climbed into bed, knowing there was no way she was going to sleep. Like the living room, the bed felt big and empty without him. She reached over and touched the spot on the pillow where his head usually was. Was she being pathetic- she'd slept here alone for years, and now after a fortnight it didn't seem right? But it wasn't just that Remus wasn't there, it was that he _was_ somewhere in the forest of Galloway and he was dirty and bloody and out of his mind and in so much danger.

She'd seen the wolf once before, at Grimmauld Place. Sirius had been there- he liked to be in charge when Remus transformed- and they'd held hands as he led her into the cellar to the wolf.

"Don't be scared," Sirius warned.

"Scared? Get a life, Sirius," Tonks had scoffed, lying. When they'd got to the bottom of the cellar steps the wolf was crouched in the corner, looking away from them. Tonks remembered gripping Sirius' hand tightly, and that the pressure he returned felt like a vice. The size of the wolf shocked her, as did its ugliness. Tonks had seen pictures off transformed werewolves in school textbooks, but the wolf in the cellar was a grotesque caricature of the diagram.

Lying in bed staring up at the ceiling, she winced thinking how unfair it was that Remus, who was neat, had to turn into something so dirty and matted. Remus, who until this week had been shy and nervy about sex, had to turn into a wolf with a huge cock dangling between its legs wanting to hump anything. Remus, who was always in control of himself, had to lose control in such a violent way. But, she thought sadly, would he have his neatness and his cute shyness and his control if he _wasn't_ a werewolf? Were they all a reaction to how he was when he changed? If he wasn't a werewolf and hadn't gone through all this hell, would he be the man she'd fallen in love with? Tonks wasn't sure how to feel about that.

She tried to flip through Order paperwork but it just made her think of Remus, or of Dumbledore. He'd been dead more than a fortnight now and it was starting to sink in. It wasn't so much the shock that he was _dead-_ he'd been very old for as long as anybody could remember. Even Mad-Eye hadn't met Dumbledore until the headmaster was in his sixties- it was that he had been _murdered_ by _Snape_ and _blasted_ _off the astronomy tower._ The headmaster killed in his own school by one of his own staff. The founder of the Order of the Phoenix killed by one of the members. Snape had always been a bastard, obviously, and there had always been suspicion, but Dumbledore swore he'd changed sides. Remus had been odd about it, he never questioned Snape's motives even through Snape clearly hated him. Usually Remus was fun to argue with, but he'd been unmovable on that subject. Remus and Sirius had been cagey about why Snape had stopped teaching Harry Occlumency, so Tonks had stopped bringing the subject up. The fact that Dumbledore had been wrong was even more shocking than the fact that it had been Snape who'd killed him. They'd all been naive about what Snape was capable of, and what Dumbledore wasn't.

Last year she'd been wracked with shame about Sirius dying when she was supposed to protect him. This year the guilt wasn't so bad- nobody could have predicted how the Malfoy boy smuggled Death Eaters into school. When it had kicked off she'd been there, and she knows that she probably saved Ginny's life on that Tower. The Ministry review of what had happened was a farce, obviously, but Mad-Eye had told her that there was little chance she and the other Hogsmeade Aurors would face investigation ("Shame about Dawlish," he'd grunted). Mad-Eye had been coping with Snape's betrayal by being even more distrustful than usual. That was annoying, and it had hurt when his reaction to, "Mad-Eye, guess what? Remus and I are getting married!" had been, "That doesn't sound like him. How d'you know it wasn't an imposter?". Tonks hadn't seen him in a couple of weeks now, and was looking forward to him being at the Order meeting in a few days' time.

And then- there was a scrape at the front door. Tonks sat upright in bed, grabbed her wand, ran to the hallway, wrenched open her flat door, dashed out into the building hallway and unlocked the building front door. Remus was there on his hands and knees- naked and pale, panting and grubby. Tonks felt like the switch on her body marked _Breath_ had been turned up to maximum. She hadn't realised it had been off all night.

"Oh thank goodness, there you are. Are you alright? Come on, let's get you inside," Tonks gabbled. She reached out to haul Remus in but he flinched.

"Shit, are you hurt? Oh my God,"

He shook his head and, gasping, staggered into the building hallway and through the flat door. Then he was on his knees again, retching. He reeked of a mixture of sweat, piss and earthiness.

"Remus? What's wrong? Merlin, everything's wrong, I'm sorry, I-"

"'M alright," he rasped, "Hurt. Bed,"

He clawed the wall with one hand and hauled himself to his feet, which were dirty and bloodied. Tonks held out a hand and he grabbed it so hard that it hurt, like Sirius' had done back in the cellar. Swaying, Remus walked to the bedroom.

"It's alright. It's over," Tonks murmured, "You're home now, you're safe. I'll look after you,"

He didn't seem to be listening, and when they got to the bedroom he hurled himself onto the bed. There was a nasty-looking open cut down his muddy back, and couple of bruises already on his ribcage. _Oh, Remus_ Tonks thought, pained, but out loud she told him:

"Look, I got you Essence of Dittany and the plasters". Always having the correct equipment set out, and overriding emotion with pragmatism- she hadn't been trained by Mad-Eye Moody for nothing.

Remus waved a shaky thumbs-up.

"There's some soup on the stove if you want it? Do you want it?" Tonks demanded. Food, warmth, Dittany, anything. She'd get it for him. She'd make him feel better.

He shook his head and croaked, "Fine,"

"Do you need anything else?"

Remus exhaled shakily. He pulled the duvet up over his shoulder before Tonks could do it for him, and murmured, "Leave me…alone. Please?"

"Oh. Yeah, of course," said Tonks. She hadn't thought of that, "Can you sort yourself out with the Dittany?"

Remus nodded.

"Err, okay. Well, I'll be nextdoor if you need anything," she told him.

He nodded again. Tonks pulled the blanket up unnecessarily, brushing his neck with her fingertips. She hoped that the touch to let him know that she was here and she'd take care of him, and that whatever had happened in the night didn't matter to her because she knew the real Remus, and the real Remus wasn't anything like the werewolf.

He made an odd groaning noise in the back of his throat and flopped away from her touch, sprawling onto the bed. He was still panting and shivering. Reluctantly, Tonks backed away from him, only stopping when she was halfway through the bedroom door.

"Remus?"

He glanced at her with unfocused eyes.

"I'm really glad you're home safe".

* * *

 **To be continued in a future chapter. Thanks very much for reading- this one has been half-written for months so I'm pleased to finally have published it. If you have a moment, please review to let me know what you thought. Thanks very much, and have a great weekend.**


	47. The Others

**This chapter is set after Lupin returns from Greyback's werewolf camp, which I've dated as about April of** _ **Half-Blood Prince.**_ **This chapter was a tricky one to get right. I hope you like it.**

The Others

Mad-Eye Moody watched the cloaked figure leave the house, lock the door and start walking up the street. The figure was small and hooded, and even with his bad leg Moody fancied his chances in a fight.

"Stupefy!" he yelled aloud, blasting the curse at the other person.

The figure swung round, ducked, and cried, "Imepedimentia!"

"Congfringo," growled Moody, and the wall behind his opponent blasted apart.

The figure didn't say anything, but slashed their wand at Mad-Eye, making a firey arrow shoot out of the tip.

Mad-Eye dodged and sent a non-verbal disarmament spell back. The other duellist swore loudly and cast a body-bind curse Mad-Eye's way.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

"Locomotor Mortis!"

"Tarantallegra!"

"Titillando!" Mad-Eye called, but the hooded figure must have cast a non-verbal jinx back, because Moody felt the gravel beneath his feet slip suddenly away. He stumbled, and before he could get up, his opponent had pounced, knocked him to the floor and grabbed him by the throat.

"Who are you? What are you doing here? Tell me who you are and take _off_ Mad-Eye's eye!"

* * *

The safehouse flat was in a sleek, modern apartment block a couple of miles outside of Exeter. Hestia apparated to the top of the stairs and walked down the corridor towards Flat 6A. She wasn't sure if the flat had a doorbell, so she knocked on the heavy wooden door. It opened a few seconds later, to reveal a gaunt and tired-looking man wearing a thick burgundy jumper.

"Oh, hello Hestia," he said, sounding surprised.

"Hi, Remus,"

"What was I wearing the last time you saw me?"

Hestia thought for a few moments, picturing Remus in the outfit he'd been wearing on Tuesday. "Black jeans, a blue jumper and a knitted scarf," she recited, in the formal tone most people used when answering security questions, "What did I tell you was a good remedy for a sore throat?"

"Alpepper ale,"

"Ah, so it is you," she said, leaning in to give him a hug and a peck on the cheek. Molly said that Remus would appreciate physical contact these days after months in the aggressive colony. Molly and Kingsley helped him move in a few days ago, and Hestia had popped over later that evening to see how he'd been getting on. Remus wasn't a moaner and had repeatedly insisted he was absolutely fine, although he looked blatantly ragged and frail. Today he seemed healthier, although as Hestia hugged him she noticed how scrawny his shoulders felt.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Remus asked, breaking away from her and leading her into the flat.

"I thought I'd come with you to the meeting tonight," Hestia said. She closed the door behind her and cast the usual security spells on it.

Remus glanced around at her. "That's very kind," he said, slightly more sharply than his usual tone.

Hestia knew why that was, and changed the subject. "How are you getting on?"

"Yes, fine. I've been sleeping lots," Remus confessed sheepishly.

"Good for you, you must be exhausted". He hadn't told Hestia much about the werewolf mission but there was no doubt that it was tough. Brutal, perhaps. Remus deserved a good sleep.

"A bit. Molly's been sending fridgefuls of food to keep me going," he explained, "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Please,"

The flat was open-plan, and Remus gestured for Hestia to sit down on one of the L-shaped sofas. It was black, fitting in with the rest of the monochrome flat.

"Or hot chocolate? Another Molly Weasley gift," said Remus, holding up a tin in the kitchen. Hestia noted that his hand was still bandaged.

"She's excelled herself. Tea's fine, ta,"

"She has," Remus agreed, flicking on the kettle with his wand. Then he added thoughtfully, "I am very lucky to have such good friends,"

They'd be friends in school, vaguely. Hestia was four years younger but she'd been in the choir with Remus and they'd once shared a detention clearing out the transfiguration stock room.

"Oh, hello. You're Hestia, aren't you?" teenage Remus had asked. She'd been a bit intimidated- after all, he was a sixth-year, and she'd only just started second. She nodded.

"Don't worry about this, we'll do all the lifting," he reassured her.

"Okay,"

"So, what are things like over in Ravenclaw?" he'd asked, and had spent ten minutes encouraging Hestia to talk about her friends and teachers and the gossip from up in Ravenclaw Tower.

James Potter had been there too- Hestia remembers a cheerful, bossy lad who sounded like he knew everything about pincushions. He'd nicknamed Hestia "Hortensia" and ribbed her about it throughout the detention. Remus rolled his eyes at James and assured Hestia that James was only joking. He was caring like that, although James groaned that Remus was being a killjoy and Hestia didn't mind the teasing (which was true). Everybody knew James Potter made stupid jokes, and the fact that he was t _alking_ to Hestia was exciting. Remus had always said hello to Hestia in the corridor because he knew her from choir practice (he was shyer in choir practice without his gang around him) and after the detention, James Potter would chirp, "Hi, Hortensia!" at her. That was even more of a thrill, and although Hestia's friends were impressed that she was on first-name terms with James Potter, Hestia always remembered that it was Remus who'd got to know her first.

Back in the flat, Remus poured tea for her and a hot chocolate for himself, then sat down on the edge of the sofa to chat to her. He was still behind on Order news, and he was very interested in Ron Weasley's poisoning. The boy was out of hospital, although Molly and Arthur were busy tonight and wouldn't be attending the meeting.

"But Bill and the twins are coming," Hestia explained.

"They're attending regularly, then?" Remus asked.

"Most of the time, unless they're busy with the shop. It's going really well,"

"Yes, they were thrilled to tell me about it over Christmas. Have you been?"

"I've walked past it but I haven't popped in," Hestia explained.

"I did over the Summer and it was very impressive. I shouldn't sound so surprised about that," he chuckled.

"Molly and Arthur are certainly surprised,"

"Between you and I, Hestia, I don't think Molly gives those boys enough credit,"

Hestia shrugged. Sometimes Weasley talk dominated Order conversations and it got tedious. She changed the subject again, "Have you found anything fun to do in Exeter yet?"

* * *

"Take his eye off! _Take it off!_ Where did you get his eye?!" the figure demanded, shoving their knee into Mad-Eye's chest.

"This eye belongs to Alastor Moody, former head of the Ministry of Magic Auror office-"

" _I know!_ Where did you get it?"

"-who you owe seven Firewhiskies and a gobstopper,"

"What?"

"Your name is Nymphadora Tonks, daughter of Ted Tonks and Andromeda Black. You met me, Alastor Moody, in the Auror corridor on the fifth of September five years ago. The first words you said to me were, ' _No, it's a Hungarian redbeard'_ ,"

The hand on Mad-Eye's throat loosened.

"What? It's actually you?" gasped Tonks, then jammed her knee further into him, "Prove it. What's elementary wand safety lesson number one,"

"Never hold your wand in your teeth," Mad-Eye recited. It was his own rule, which Tonks frequently ignored.

"What's the name of my pet rat?"

"You didn't have a rat. You had a pet toad called Prudence. Died on your birthday in your sixth year,"

Tonks exhaled. "Merlin, Mad-Eye, what are you playing at?" she said, removing her knee from his chest and holding out a hand to help him up. Mad-Eye took it and let her pull him to his feet, then led the way down the dim street.

"Testing you. That was a poor effort, I've told you before than a slipping jinx is a bad idea," he reprimanded.

"I got you on the floor," she protested, "I had my hand on your throat,"

"I've told you before, that's a vulnerable position if you allow the other party to apparate behind you,"

"Fine. Anyway, aren't we meant to be going to the Order meeting? That's where I was heading,"

"I'm picking you up,"

" _Why?"_ Tonks scoffed.

Mad-Eye shot a sideways glance at her and said flatly, "Lupin's home,"

Tonks stopped dead. "What?" she whispered.

"I told you Dumbledore was considering taking him out of there. He's been back a few days. He'll be there tonight,"

"Oh my God. _Oh_ my _God,"_ she breathed.

Mad-Eye had expected this, and he didn't have time for it. "We need to get going," he told her, continuing down the cobbles towards the station.

"Have you seen him?" Tonks called. Mad-Eye kept walking- it was best to try and keep Tonks' dramatics about this as low-level as possible.

"Mad-Eye. Have you seen him?" she repeated seriously.

"No," he called over his shoulder, "Let's move,"

"Oh my God," she murmured again. Moody didn't like this version of Tonks. He didn't like who she'd been for most of this past year. The eighteen-year-old who had interrupted his conversation to answer back about Hungarian redbeards had faded. Mad-Eye wasn't sentimental about her growing up- he wasn't her father for goodness sake- but he missed her jokes and her bubbliness more than he'd care to admit. Tonks still liked to wind him up and she laughed sometimes, but not like she used to. Moody hoped that the old Tonks wasn't gone forever. On the other hand, from all Mad-Eye had heard (Mad-Eye had heard everything), she'd done well in her post up here. Kept her head and got on with things. Mopey and miserable she may have been, but she'd done her job well, and managed not to murder Dawlish, which Moody knew must have been a challenge for her.

He heard Tonks' footsteps run to catch up with him, and glanced over his shoulder to call, "Hurry up and do it silently,"

He much preferred barking out orders to her than listening to her fret about Lupin. Moody turned his face ahead again, but spun his eye around to watch Tonks creep up behind him. He couldn't hear her move.

"Good," he grunted, when Tonks was walking beside him again.

She didn't bother to snark about him testing her, and demanded, "Does he know I'm coming?"

"Believe so,"

Tonks groaned. After a pause she added, " _Shit._ He hasn't seen me since my hair changed,"

"I doubt he's looking his best," Mad-Eye muttered. He was only being dry, but Tonks jumped, alarmed.

"What do you mean? Is he okay? Have you heard something?"

She'd always fired questions at him, and calmness had never been her strong suit, but a few times when Mad-Eye had mentioned Lupin this last year she'd jumped out of her skin like this. Moody hated that- he thought he'd taught her better.

"No. But he's been living with werewolves for eight months," Mad-Eye pointed out, hoping that his blunt tone would stop Tonks being so shrill.

She winced. "I feel like I'm about to explode,"

"You're not," Mad-Eye growled.

"I know. I'm sorry, I know you hate all this," she grimaced. It was true. He did. Moody hadn't taken her on to have to deal with her whingeing all year about her love life. He couldn't have cared less about who she was seeing, until that day last year when she'd taken him aside in his office and announced that she was going out with Remus Lupin. She'd begged him not to tell anybody (as if Mad-Eye would have anybody to tell?) but there was no mistaking how thrilled she was. Moody knew that it would end in tears. He'd considered having a word with Lupin, but realised that he wouldn't know what to say. He'd resolved to stay out of it, which hadn't been difficult as the pair of them had kept their relationship quiet. Well, Lupin had kept it quiet- clearly Tonks had gone along with him, and now he was gone she was being even more dramatic about the end of their romance than she was about most things.

When Moody had seen her over Christmas he'd snapped at her to stop moping and get a grip. Tonks' face had crumpled and she'd choked out that it wasn't only that she missed Lupin, but she was scared for him, and she hadn't heard anything, and she kept expecting bad news, but bad news was better than not hearing anything at all. Mad-Eye had seen her cry plenty of times before, and usually she batted her tears away and muttered to herself to stop being a wimp. At Christmas though, Tonks had pushed her face into her knees and whimpered. Moody hadn't had a clue what to do. He'd wanted to snarl at Tonks to shut up- but she was his friend as well as his protégée, and he wasn't sure if they would be friends much longer if he snapped at her that she was being pathetic. It had turned out this year that he didn't know much about her at all. Or perhaps he had, but she'd changed and he wasn't used to this new version. Mad-Eye didn't _want_ to get used to this new version. At Christmas, he'd waited uncomfortably until she stopped crying, then tried to explain that no news was good news.

"Bollocks. No news could mean they've hurt him and haven't bothered to tell us," Tonks choked out.

"Yes. It might," Mad-Eye agreed. Tonks must have clocked that he didn't know what to say, because she stood up, wiped her face on her sleeve, and put the kettle on.

Trudging through Hogsmeade with her now, Mad-Eye thought wryly that he'd pay Lupin fifty galleons to sort this damn business out. Clearly Lupin had tried to avoid her- Moody would have guessed that that was a good idea, but it had had the opposite effect. This was precisely why Mad-Eye didn't like dealing with emotions; they were unpredictable and irrational. In an attack or a bodyguard unit there were rules and plans and methods for dealing with problems. There was none of that when it came to relationships.

As they neared the station, the usual apparation point, Tonks twisted a hairband off her wrist and pulled her hair into a ponytail.

"Is Snape coming tonight?" she asked.

"No," Mad-Eye confirmed. The potions master was busy doing something for Dumbledore.

"Thank Merlin," Tonks breathed. Mad-Eye suspected that she wanted him to ask why she was relieved about Snape's absence, so he didn't say anything.

Tonks took the hint, because she zipped up her purple dragonskin jacket and squared her shoulders the way Mad-Eye had taught her to do before a duel.

"Right. Right," she murmured. She pulled her gloves (the silly fingerless ones Moody had never understood why she wore) up her wrist and took her wand out of her pocket. "Let's go".

* * *

"I was thinking of getting there exactly on time. Not early I mean," says Remus lightly. Hestia shot him a glance. He was looking intently into his tea cup.

"Yes. That's a good idea," she agreed quietly.

They'd made more small-talk- Remus knew that Slughorn was at Hogwarts again and Snape was now teaching Defence, but he was behind on the specifics of it all. Hestia filled him in on Dumbledore's mysterious injury and had no idea how to answer when he asked what Mundungus had been up to recently. Remus was patient with Mundungus, Hestia remembered. He was soft like that. They chatted about the Quidditch season even though neither were particularly big fans, and about what Dolores Umbridge was doing now ("I wish many unfortunate things on her," said Remus mildly). He'd always had a good memory for people's family and friends- in an attentive, thoughtful way rather than a nosey one. He asked Hestia about how her parents were doing and if Camille had passed her accountancy exams yet. Hestia wondered if talking about her girlfriend was a bit close to the bone, but since Remus had brought it up she replied that Camille's exams were in September but she'd started revising for them already. When the kitchen clock beeped eight ("Apologies, I can't seem to stop it doing that every hour," Remus explained), they agreed that it was time to leave for the meeting. It had been a warm day, but Remus pulled his patched overcoat on, clarifying awkwardly that he felt the cold more these days.

"Well, it _did_ rain a few days ago," Hestia said, to excuse him.

"Hmm, yes," Remus nodded. Then he added solemnly, "I'm very grateful for you offering to do this tonight,"

He didn't meet her eyes but from his tone Hestia knew what he meant. She knew he knew the real reason she had come here today: Tonks. Remus hadn't seen her for nearly a year and Hestia knew he must be nervous about it. Hestia didn't know what happened between the two of them- she can't remember how she found out, and she never saw them do anything remotely coupley- but she knew that it had ended last Summer, badly. She was sure that Remus was dreading seeing Tonks again, and the state that Tonks was in would make it worse. She'd been so miserable since Remus left that she couldn't change her hair. She must have been _really_ into him to be that floored by their breakup, which surprised Hestia because Remus didn't seem anything like Tonks' type. He was sweet and clever, he was a lovely person, but he was shabby and serious. Oh, and a werewolf. Even if Hestia was into blokes, she couldn't imagine Remus being remotely fanciable- especially to Tonks, who was about fifteen years younger and all colours and questions and screamy music blaring from the kitchen radio. She wasn't like Remus at all.

Tonks was alright to talk to, and Hestia knew that she must be clever to have become an Auror, but she didn't shut up and was always showing off about her powers. Remus was a very patient person when he _needed_ to be, but Hestia wasn't sure why he _chose_ to date somebody he had to be patient with. But he was a bloke and she was a much younger girl, so perhaps he could put up with her annoyingness if it meant he got a shag out of it. Straight guys were all the same.

* * *

They'd apparated to Grimmauld, said hello to everybody (well, Tonks had. Mad-Eye preferred a general grunt of greeting to whoever was in the room) and sat down. The Weasleys had been showing off as usual and Podmore was talking loudly over them. McGonagall had arrived, dragging a whingeing Fletcher with her, and Kingsley had followed. Everybody was here now apart from Lupin and Jones. It wasn't like Jones not to be early, which set Mad-Eye on guard. He watched Tonks check her watch and the wall clock over and over, and felt her jiggle the table next to him with her knees. That had got so irritating that he'd grabbed her kneecap with his hand to make her stop.

"Sorry," she'd murmured, "Nervous,"

"Lupin's coming tonight, isn't he?" asked Bill loudly, above the hubbub or pre-meeting chatter. At the mention of the name, Tonks' head whipped round.

"Yes, I believe he is," answered McGonagall, "He arrived home-"

And then the kitchen door opened, and Lupin and Jones walked in. Mad-Eye felt Tonks tense beside him.

"Prof!" called two voices simultaneously, and the Weasley twins bounded over to Lupin to shake his hand and slap him on the back.

Lupin raised a hand faux-jovially through the bundle of limbs and ginger hair. "Hello, everyone,"

He looked terrible. His hair, which Tonks had described upon meeting him as "brown with patches of grey" was now almost entirely grey. His face was grey too. Mad-Eye had visited Azkaban a few times, and he'd seen the same sallow, lost look on Lupin's face on the expression of some of the prisoners there. He'd lost so much weight that his clothes hung on him. There were patches of scabs down one side of Lupin's face, and the hand that was raised in greeting had a bandage across the knuckles.

Mad-Eye's eye spun over to Tonks. She was staring at Lupin with her mouth slightly open. He could see the pulse throbbing in her neck and, for the first time in all this, Mad-Eye felt sincere sympathy for her. Poor girl hadn't wanted this to happen. It wasn't _her_ fault that he was a werewolf. She was so young- Mad-Eye could barely remember what it was like to be her age. There was an intensity to youth (and Merlin knew there had always been an intensity to her), when emotions felt stronger and more overwhelming. Those feelings were an inconvenience which Mad-Eye had shut down in himself long ago. But as he watched Tonks gaze at Lupin, Mad-Eye hoped that she wouldn't block out emotions like he had.

Beside them, Podmore got to his feet and leaned over to Lupin. "Remus, good to see you," he blustered, leaning over to shake hands.

"Hello, Poddy," said Lupin.

Mad-Eye felt rather than saw Tonks hunch forward, but thankfully she didn't stand up. Lupin waved a hand in their direction but didn't look directly at either of them. Then Jones, who had walked in behind him and was looking nervous, shepherded him towards Bill and McGonagall on the other side of the table.

"Hi," murmured Tonks, as Lupin turned away.

* * *

Hestia breathed a sigh of relief once the meeting started. Surely the worst was over now. Remus' entrance had gone alright- thank Merlin for those Weasley boys (she had never expected to think that). Diggle, who was chairing the meeting, had done a brief "Welcome back Remus and thank you for your work," spiel, but after that Remus hadn't garnered too much attention, which Hestia knew he would be grateful for. Hestia and Remus were sitting down now at the end of the table, adjacent to Tonks, whom Mad-Eye appeared to be babysitting. Tonks was making the occasional note, but Hestia could see her look up every few seconds to look at Remus. She wasn't attempting to be subtle about it, but the girl had never been subtle. At first Hestia had thought that Tonks looked like a lovesick teenager, unable to keep her eyes off him. But she'd met Tonks' eyes a moment ago, and there was such sadness in them that Hestia couldn't help but feel sympathetic.

Poddy was talking now, and Remus was scribbling down everything he was saying. Thankfully, Remus was usually a thorough transcriber of meetings, so the fact that he was doing so now didn't make him look like he was avoiding something.

* * *

"Well, I suppose that's the meeting adjourned," declared Diggle, "Thank you for coming, everybody,"

Diggle was a hopeless chair. He was always indecisive about opening the meeting, giving instructions, and adjourning at the end. Mad-Eye expected Diggle to suddenly remember something he had to add, before he could say anything Fletcher leapt to his feet.

"Seein' a man about a cat," he explained, bundling together the usual mass of rags he dragged with him, and loping towards the door.

Fletcher's departure thankfully set everybody else up to leave, so Diggle was shut up. He wouldn't chair again for a few weeks, which Moody was relieved about. Podmore and Kingsley started packing away their notes, and Mad-Eye saw Jones catch Lupin's eye and flick her head towards the door. He wasn't sure how Jones was involved in all this and he didn't much care, but if she was getting Lupin out of the room quicker, good for her. Jones put her hand on Lupin's arm. He smiled at her, gesturing for the two of them to leave with Podmore and Kingsley. Tonks was leaning over the table towards them, staring at Lupin. Mad-Eye put his hand on her kneecap again and was about to say something to distract her, when suddenly everything went black.

* * *

Hestia was touching Remus' coat sleeve, and instinctively clung onto it when the light disappeared. A male voice yelped, and another voice told them to shut up.

"Whose there?" asked Kingsley's voice.

"Protegro!" shouted Moody's familiar growl, "Revalio!"

"Oops. Sorry folks, that's one of our Decoy detonators," said one of the twins' voices, cutting through the hubbub, "Must have fallen out of my pocket,"

" _Fred,"_ groaned Poddy.

"I'm George. But yeah, it was Freddy's fault,"

There was a collective huff and reprimanding mutters from other voices. Hestia breathed a sigh of relief that it was just a stupid Weasley prank and nothing more serious.

"Lumos," snarled Mad-Eye, and his wand lit up his face. Hestia noticed that Tonks wasn't standing beside him. At the same moment she felt a figure dash past her and fling itself at Remus. Kingsley's wand lit up and Hestia saw that the figure was a female, with lank brown hair. Tonks. She was hugging Remus tightly, pinning his arms to his sides and burrowing her face into his jumper. Remus looked shocked for a moment while he registered what was happening, then glanced from side to side, bewildered and panicked.

"Now, what's-" began Poddy, but Kingsley elbowed him in the ribs. He looked back at Hestia, who looked back at Poddy, who looked at Remus, who looked at the floor. Tonks wasn't showing any signs of letting him go. Hestia had thought that she'd managed to avoid a scene like this, but everything had happened so fast and abruptly in the confusion of the blackout. She wasn't sure if she should say something to Remus, or Tonks, or leave Kingsley to intervene. He knew them both better than she did.

There was a gruff clearing of a throat and the clacking of a peg-leg. Mad-Eye was walking round the side of the table towards them.

"Tonks," he said ordered, "We're going,"

Nobody said anything, but Hestia almost breathed a sigh of relief- somebody had taken charge.

"We're leaving _now,"_ barked Mad-Eye, in a much harsher voice. Hestia almost winced at the impatience in his tone.

Tonks peeled her face away from Remus' chest and didn't look at him as she glanced over to Moody.

"But I-"

"I think you need to go," Remus echoed quietly.

Tonks looked up into his face. Remus looked down at his shoes. Hestia wished that this awful moment would be over.

"Oh. Okay, I…I just wanted…" Tonks murmured. She paused for a moment, then let go of Remus as quickly as if he were on fire. Immediately, Remus backed away, stumbling into Kingsley as he did. Mad-Eye put his hand on Tonks' shoulder.

"Get a move on," he commanded. He glanced at Hestia, who couldn't read the expression in his remaining eye. It was always difficult to know what Mad-Eye was thinking, and he seemed to be being both cross and kind to Tonks at the moment. But the two of them were friends- everybody knew he wanted Tonks to take over his old job- so he was probably the best person for her to be with now. Tonks needed to be with _anybody_ apart from Remus, who must be mortified by all this.

Moody muttered a goodbye to Kingsley, and steered Tonks out of the door.

* * *

He knew she was going to cry. She was more predictable than she liked to think. Once they were out of the house, Mad-Eye fished a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Tonks, and she wiped her face with it while they walked back along Grimmauld Place towards the main road. After being strangely silent throughout the meeting, now she had started talking and seemed unable to shut up.

"I can't believe I just did that," she was gabbling, "Do you think he hates me now? Oh my God, Mad-Eye-"

"He doesn't hate you,"

"Do you think? I don't know. Why did I do that? That was so stupid, I just…he looked so _ill,_ didn't he, and sad, and- I missed him so much, I haven't slept properly for months-"

"You can make a sleeping draught for that," Mad-Eye pointed out, knowing she wasn't listening.

"- And he was there and I wanted…he looked…fuck!" Tonks growled, kicking at the air. Unsatisfied with that (clearly she was in a violent mood tonight, Moody thought wearily), she aimed a punch into the darkness, then another kick, then groaned, half-anger and half-sob. Mad-Eye kept walking. He didn't want to look at her when she was like this.

Tonks was crying again by the time she caught up. "I- I love him so much, Mad-Eye. You saw him, you know he needs looking after, he needs someone to protect him, and-" she rubbed her tears away with a fist, "He really hates himself sometimes, he needs to be loved. I love him. I just want to love him,"

She looked up at Mad-Eye, a tear dribbling down onto her lip. "Why can't I just love him?".

* * *

God bless Bill Weasley. He'd jumped in as Tonks and Mad-Eye left, suddenly remembering that he had to ask Kingsley and Remus a very important question about where the best bookshop on Knockturn Alley was. Diggle overheard and came over to join in, and the conversation drifted on towards Order news and events Remus needed to be updated on, and they just about got away with ignoring the scene which had just taken place.

Eventually, Remus announced tiredly, "It's been nice talking, everyone, but I should get going now,"

"Oh yeah, of course. You must be knackered," said Bill quickly, "I'd better get Newt and Toad home,"

The twins, who'd been halfway across the room and seemingly out of earshot, glanced round.

"Oi," said one.

"We heard that," said the other.

"And it's Rat and Toad, thanks very much,"

" _And_ you don't need to get us home. We're eighteen now,"

"Thought you were taking us for a Muggle pint,"

"Drinks are on Bill!"

Bill huffed and muttered, "Get a move on then,"

"Yes sir," said one of the twins. They saluted identically and marched over to the door in synchronisation. Bill prodded them out of the door and leaned into Hestia's ear as he passed.

"Gonna give them a hiding about that trick with the darkness powder," he muttered.

The Weasleys left, and Remus reached down to pull on his patched overcoat. Now the tension of what had happened had been as diffused as it could probably get, he seemed to want to leave quickly again. Remus could be quite a solitary person, and the meeting had probably worn him out, although Hestia wasn't sure it was a good idea for him to be alone.

"Do you want me to come with you?" she murmured.

He stopped with an arm halfway down his coat sleeve. "That's very kind, but I'm going to head to bed, actually,"

"Okay. Goodnight then,"

"Night, Hestia" he paused then said, "Thank you very much,"

He stepped forward and hugged her tightly (again, she felt the scrawniness in his upper body. She didn't want to think about food at the werewolf pack).

"Don't mention it," Hestia mumbled over his shoulder.

Remus let go and straightened his jacket.

"See you next Friday, probably,"

"Yes, if not before,"

"Alright. Say hello to Camille from me. Bye," Remus said, giving her a wan half-smile before turning around to shake Kingsley's hand and bid him goodnight too. When he left through the doorway, Hestia watched him go. She hoped that he'd be alright tonight. This evening must have been tiring for him, even discounting Tonks. Hestia figured that she should leave too now. She waved to the others, walked out of the room and through the hallway, opened the front door and stepped down the front steps to the street. Remus had already disapparated, although Hestia caught a glimpse of the Weasleys chasing after each other and laughing as they neared the corner. That family had always been good at compartmentalising.

With a sigh, Hestia apparated home. She landed in the living room, where Camille was hunched over her desk, scratching her chin with a pen.

"Hi," she said, without looking up. It was best not to disturb Camille when she was in revision mode. After ten years working in something Muggles called PR, Hestia's girlfriend was retraining to be an accountant. As Hestia had explained to Remus, even though Camille's exams were in a few months' time she'd started the revision process early.

"Hi," said Hestia, leaning down to kiss Camille's head.

Her girlfriend dropped her pen onto her textbook, leaned back and asked, "How was your meeting?"

"Fine. The boy who was poisoned's oldest brother was there- he says he's doing a lot better". Camille, who was often aghast about how dangerous Hogwarts sounded, had been alarmed when Hestia told her what had happened to Ron.

"That's a relief,"

"You'd like the oldest brother actually, he works for a bank,"

"I remember. He's the punky guy, isn't he? Were his bank exams as extensive as mine?"

"Probably not. Curse-breaking isn't the same as chartered accountancy". Being in a relationship with a Muggle woman was a welcome break from the intensity of Order things and the War. Some people might see it as confusing, but for Hestia, living two lives was a relief. Tonks had proved tonight now complicated and uncomfortable dating somebody in the Order could be. Hestia remembered the look on Tonks' face as Mad-Eye had led her away. She'd looked so lost, bamboozled and hurt.

"What?" Camille asked, "You're looking at me,"

"Sorry. Just thinking about something,"

"Can you tell me about it?". Hestia's girlfriend was patient with all the secrecy involved in dating a witch, especially a witch in a secret resistance society.

"Sort of. It's a love story gone wrong,"

"Classic," Camille nodded, "The straights?"

"The straights," Hestia confirmed. Plenty of people they knew had experienced bad break-ups, but the werewolf thing made Remus and Tonks' situation much more complicated.

"Do you think they'll work it out?"

Hestia looked over at her girlfriend. Camille had pushed her glasses up to her forehead and tied her frizzy hair up with a pencil.

"I don't know".

* * *

Gingerly, Mad-Eye put his hand on Tonks' back. They'd made it to a bench, where she was sniffing and shaking and he was wondering what else he could do or say to help her, and why it had fallen to _him_ to help her at all.

"This is _worse_ than not having seem him all year," Tonks groaned, "How is this _worse?"_

She was leaning forward and pinching the bridge of her nose as if she was about to be sick.

"Not worse. Now you don't have to worry," Moody pointed out.

It turned out that was the wrong thing to say. " _How can I not worry about him?"_ Tonks wailed, almost screeching.

Mad-Eye resisted the urge to snap that for Merlin's sake, what did she expect him to do. Irritably, he reached for his hip-flask- then stopped as it gave him an idea.

"Let's go for a drink,"

"I'm supposed to be back in Hogsmeade," Tonks mumbled, scrubbing at her face with her sleeve again.

"Good answer. You've still got your priorities in order," Moody nodded approvingly, "I'll owl Proudfoot and tell her I need you for something in the office,"

Tonks moved her arm away from her face and looked up at him. "For what?"

"What do you care?" Mad-Eye growled, "I'll tell her it's urgent,"

Even though Moody wasn't an active Auror any longer, the department made allowances. He'd never got on particularly well with Thetis Proudfoot, but he knew that she wouldn't argue with him if he said he needed Tonks.

Mad-Eye couldn't help her with this Lupin nonsense, but the least he could do was buy her a drink. He stood up and held out a hand. Tonks looked at it, sighed, then reached out, took his hand and let him pull her to her feet.

"I'm taking you for a pint, so get moving," Mad-Eye told her, "That's an order".

* * *

 **Thanks for reading. This chapter was a challenge to write both in terms of what actually happened, and the perspectives they were observed from. Please review to let me know what you thought.**


	48. Married Life: Deimos

_"[Lupin] swung constantly between elation that he was married to the woman of his dreams and terror of what he might have brought upon them both,"_

\- JK Rowling on _Pottermore._

 _You can run into my arms,_

 _It's okay, don't be alarmed,_

 _Come here to me._

 _There's no distance in between our love,_

 _So go on and let the rain pour,_

 _I'll be all you need and more_

\- Rihanna, _Umbrella._

Married Life: Deimos

It was easier to sleep now that he was back. Tonks pulled the duvet over herself on the sofa, and managed to catch a couple of hours of kip before the alarm clock shrieked to wake her up for work. She didn't like running on two hours of sleep, but being an Auror got you used to it. Tonks downed a coffee and crept into the bedroom to get dressed. Remus was sleeping on his side, facing away from her. Tonks noticed that the Dittany bowl was empty and he had a couple of plasters on his arm. The pillow was grimy from his face, and there were a couple of twigs which had fallen out of his hair on it. For a split-second Tonks considered waking him, then realised that was stupid and selfish- he needed his sleep. She got dressed as quietly as possible, then refilled the bowl of Dittany and made a sandwich and a cup of tea to leave by the bed. She wrote a note alongside it- _Hope you feel better! Can't wait for cuddles later xxxxxx._

* * *

Stepping out of the fire that evening, Tonks noticed that the jumper Remus had left on the sofa wasn't there anymore. In the bathroom, his razor and toothbrush had moved from where they'd been that morning, and the bath looked like it had been used. Tonks knocked on the bedroom door (an odd thing to do considering that it was her own room, she noted) and pushed it open quietly. Remus was slumped over with his eyes closed and the blanket twisted around his waist. The mug and plate were empty on the table beside him.

"Remus?" she whispered.

He didn't respond.

"Wotcher, Remus. You okay?"

Tonks crossed over to the bed, tempted to snuggle up to Remus' body and run her fingers through his hair. But she wasn't sure if he'd hurt himself, so she climbed into bed without touching him, hoping that the movement would wake him up. It worked, because Remus' eyes flickered open and he looked at her.

"Hi," Tonks whispered, "How are you?"

His eyes closed again slowly, "'M fine,"

"How was it?"

"Bad,"

"Oh," she said, feeling stupid, "Sorry to hear that,"

"Hmmph," he said. His eyes fluttered closed as he fell asleep again.

* * *

Tuesday. She came home to find him on the sofa in his pyjamas with his knees tucked up to his chest. He was conjuring a flock of bluebirds to fly over his head. Despite his grey, grazed face, it was a relief to see him out of bed.

"Wotcher," said Tonks, leaning down to peck his cheek, "Nice to see you up,"

Remus stiffened at her touch and waved his wand so that the bluebirds disappeared.

"You should stay away from me," he croaked.

Bugger. This was not a good sign. "Well that's a bit tricky now we're married, isn't it?" Tonks pointed out. She unhooked her wedding ring from the necklace and slipped it back on her finger, hoping that Remus would take the hint. He ignored it.

"Look what I've done to y-"

"Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?" Tonks asked, trying to wrench the subject off this uncomfortable turf, "What happened?"

"It isn't important," he muttered.

She was unable to stop the frustration in her voice. "How is it not important?".

"Look what I've done to you," Remus repeated. He wasn't looking at her and his tone was timid and ashamed.

Tonks winced. Not this again. She thought they were done with this _._ "You weren't saying that in bed the other night," she growled, "Or at dinner on Thursday. Or, as a random example, at our wedding,"

"Our wedding was a-" he began to say, but cut himself off.

"A what? A mistake?"

"I'm tired," Remus announced, standing up abruptly, "I'm going back to bed,"

Tonks flicked her wand to shut the door. "No. We're talking about this now. I'm not putting up with you having more mood-swings than Ron Weasley. I'm not spending the next fifty years not knowing if I'm going to come home to the version of you who loves me or the version who hates himself,"

"I _do_ love you, which is why I should have put a stop to this before we ended up here,"

He might as well have slapped her. "That's a horrible thing to say. We've been married _nine days"._ How could he say that after nine days?

"And on one of those days I've become a monster," Remus pointed out.

She hated that word, most of all when he said it about himself, and even more when he did so in this self-pitying way. He was so flipping frustrating.

"Do you not get sick of this? This _endless_ telling me you're not worth it, because it's boring me to death. You were happy last week and you know you were. Can't you just think back to that?"

"I'm not going to lie. I can't pretend that this isn't the reality," Remus said wearily, then sighed, "I'm going to bed,"

"Oh, and you'll wake up tomorrow and it'll all be fine again," Tonks couldn't help but snap.

"I thought that's what you wanted?" he asked calmly.

"Yeah it _is_. I want you to be like that all the time. _I want you to be happy,_ "

"That's not your responsibility,"

"I'm your wife. Of course it's my responsibility,"

"I-"

"-and you're bloody well not making _me_ happy right now," she snarled.

"No," Remus mumbled sadly, "No. Well, there we are,"

"What's that supposed to mean? For once can't you say what you actually mean?"

"Look, I don't want to argue-"

"-could have fooled me,"

Remus rubbed a hand across his face and groaned.

"Is this some sort of plan to make me hate you?" Tonks accused, "Because you've tried that before and I seem to remember it involved you living with werewolves for eight months and us getting married anyway,"

"I don't want you to hate me," he rasped.

"Sure about that?"

"Of course I'm sure". He sounded more impatient now.

"Then what are you playing at? Seriously, Remus, what am I supposed to do? Because from where I'm standing I just had the- the best four days of my life since we came home," Tonks' voice cracked, "And I don't know what I'm supposed to do about you and your bloody self-destruct button,"

She saw the struggle in Remus' face for a moment. Guilt. Turmoil. Love. Panic. Fear. He was always so fearful. Then he came over and put his arm around her shoulders. Tonks wanted to feel relieved that he was letting himself touch her again, but everything was too tense.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm worn out," Remus said heavily, "This full moon felt like a bad one and it's brought a few things home to me. Things I was trying to forget,"

Tonks looked him in the eye. "You were better when you forgot them,"

"No doubt I was, but that doesn't mean I was right,"

"It means exactly that you were right,"

His face struggled again. "We'll have to agree to disagree about that one,"

"Right. Well," Tonks said awkwardly. They'd only been back together a couple of weeks but already she'd forgotten how horrible it was to be awkward around him.

"Yes,"

Remus withdrew his arm from round her shoulders and picked up the copy of _The House of Mirth_ he'd left of the coffee table. Tonks knew that it was a good thing that he wasn't storming off to bed, but it didn't feel like a victory. She watched him for a few seconds, heart thudding, but it seemed that he'd said what he wanted to and wasn't going to look up again. He was frustratingly good at ending arguments. Tonks wanted to snuggle up to him, but he was sitting on the armchair, and moreover his posture was stiff and angular. It was clear that he didn't want to be touched. Tonks fished a music magazine from her bag and sat down on the sofa. They spent the rest of the evening reading in silence- she couldn't tell if Remus was concentrating on his reading as ineffectually as she was on hers. When he eventually did go to bed, he gave her an awkward pat on the arm and his, "Goodnight" was cursory.

"Night," Tonks murmured, "I'll be there in a little while,"

She'd slept on the sofa last night too, so she hoped that Remus got the hint of _I am coming back to_ bed _tonight._

"Alright," he replied non-committally.

She wanted to kiss him goodnight but she knew it'd make things worse, and when Tonks went to bed half an hour later she suspected that Remus was only pretending to be sleeping.

* * *

In the morning he really _was_ asleep, like he usually was at this time. Before Tonks left for work she knelt down next to him, ran a finger down his jaw and raked a hand softly through his hair.

"Come back to me. Come back and be happy," she murmured, kissing his forehead. They'd been so happy before this full moon. She wasn't letting them go back to how things had been a few weeks ago, when he was cold and frightened and convinced that he knew better than her and that them being together would ruin everything.

At the Ministry things were typically hectic, with Proudfoot barking out orders and Glossop fretting about departmental security. Everyone was in overdrive after what had happened to Dumbledore. There was an Order meeting tonight, the first since their wedding. Being one of the only people at work who knew what had really happened to Dumbledore was exhausting, so Tonks was looking forward to seeing the rest of the Order. At work she was left with administrating emergency safeguarding measures, one of the boring jobs, but she could overhear Glossop and Dawlish speculating about Dumbledore and- even worse- Harry. None of this secrecy had seemed so stressful when they'd been planning the wedding, and those four days after when she'd been bursting with joy. Now it felt exhausting and tense, and the world seemed much more threatening and difficult to handle. It was the sort of thing she would have talked to Remus about, except it was Remus who was _causing_ her to feel this hassled in the first place. Her period was late from all this stress. Kingsley was out of the office today- even though they didn't speak much at work, she could have done with his reassuring presence.

By the time Tonks got home, she'd worked herself up into treading on eggshells, and it transpired that Remus was too. He was dressed for the first time since Sunday and he said hello when she stepped out of the fire. That was a start, but his tone and posture were tense and he didn't stand up to kiss her.

"Wotcher,"

"Hello. Good day at work?" he asked. He still looked clammy, but not as ill as he'd seemed for the last few days. Tonks hoped that that meant the worst was over.

"Alright. Busy," she said cagily,

Before she could say anything else. Remus snapped his book shut and announced, "The meeting is tonight,"

"Yeah,"

"Eight o'clock at the Burrow,"

Sometimes it took him flipping ages to get to his point. "What about it?"

"Well, it's the first time we'll have seen everybody since the wedding,"

" _Our_ wedding," Tonks pointed out. She didn't like him going into Professor mode like this.

"Yes," Remus conceded, "Our wedding. Our friends will want to see us happy. Let's tell them yes we are, it was a nice wedding and thanks for all their cards, and now let's get on with organising moving Harry,"

Oh, so he was ignoring the argument too. Bypassing what happened last night and launching straight into playing happy families in front of their friends.

"What about you?" Tonks asked impatiently.

"What about me?"

"If our friends want to see us happy, will you be _pretending_ or will you actually be happy?"

For a moment, Remus looked befuddled. Then he looked thoughtful. Then he looked at his knees and murmured, "You make me very happy,"

"Are you sure? Because I think we established that you weren't happy last night,"

"No. Neither were you,"

"Because _you_ weren't. Because you were weird and distant and like you were before we got engaged,"

"Mmm,"

"Well?"

He took a breath then said heavily, "I told you last night that I'm not going to pretend to you that I'm happy when I'm not. I can lie about it in front of other people. But I won't lie to you,"

God, he was sweet. He wasn't even trying to be; he was telling the truth. He was infuriating but he was also a total angel, and she was the only person who could talk him out of his self-destructiveness. She knew he needed her.

"If I say something will you say it back?" Tonks asked quietly.

Remus considered. "Alright,"

"Everything is going to be fine,"

When he looked up there was the ghost of a smirk on his face. "I thought you were going to say 'I love you',"

"Everything's going to be fine," she repeated.

The smirk flickered into a smile. It was faint, but it was there. "Everything's going to be fine," he echoed.

Tonks wanted to grab his collar and yank him in for a snog, but it was too early for that. Sometimes meeting Remus halfway meant meeting him an inch in front of where he was standing.

Instead she leaned over, pecked his cheek and told him, "Great. Something we finally agree on,"

"Only because you made me say it," he pointed out. Tonks hoped that his pout was mocking not genuine.

"Hey, beggars can't be choosers".

* * *

At The Burrow they were embraced and hand-shook and congratulated. Hagrid pulled them both into a bone-crushing hug, Kingsley clapped Remus proudly on the back, and Molly beamed and managed not to cry. Ron looked bamboozled, the twins chorused, "You didn't invite us to the party?" and Moody looked uncharacteristically discombobulated before settling on shaking Tonks' hand and saying, "I suppose you could have done worse".

"Thanks, Mad-Eye. I wish you could have been there,"

"Busy here," he growled, which Tonks reckoned was Moody code for _I wouldn't have wanted to come anyway, you soppy sod._

Ginny came hurtling down the stairs, flung herself at Tonks and squealed, "Congratulations!"

"Thank, Gin,"

Ginny pressed a kiss to her cheek and demanded, "How was it? Was everything okay?"

"It was fine. It was a really nice day,"

"Good," said Ginny fervently.

"Ginny, what did I say about being allowed in the meeting," crowed Molly's voice.

"I've been here for five seconds!" Ginny protested. She pulled a face, let go of Tonks and elbowed her way across to Remus, who was fending interrogation from George and Hermione. Hestia and Dogbreath came over to ask about the wedding. Recounting the story, Tonks realised that Saturday the 12th of July felt like a long time ago now.

"Alright, settle down, everybody," said Kingsley after a few minutes of chatter. The hubbub died down apart from the twins.

"So when he was properly pissed-" one of them was explaining to Remus.

"We're talking absolutely blind drunk-" the other corroborated.

"He'd tap the bride on the shoulder-"

"Yank up his robes-"

"And give her a bunch of flowers pulled straight from his-"

"Fred, George, that's _enough,"_ hissed Molly, "Ginny, back upstairs,"

Ginny left without complaint, but shut the door slightly harder than was necessary. Tonks smirked.

"Tell you later," the first twin told Remus with a wink.

"Where's Tonks? Go round and sit with your wife," demanded the second twin, pushing Remus over to her. He looked uncomfortable inamongst all the fuss, and his awkwardness increased when Kingsley stood up, raising his glass. Thankfully, Kingsley knew Remus well enough to understand how embarrassed he'd be by all this and kept his toast brief.

"Welcome, everybody. If I may start by saying that firstly we all offer our congratulations to our good friends Remus and Tonks, who as you all know were married last week. We wish you both the utmost happiness," he said, "I'd like to raise a toast,"

She could see Remus looking around twitchily as everybody stood up, raised their glasses and echoed, "To Remus and Tonks,"

Tonks snaked an arm around her husband's waist and beamed round at their friends (Molly had succumbed to tears). She pretended to be as elated and thrilled as she had been those first few days, before this marriage had become as complicated and argumentative as the months which had preceded it. Why hadn't she seen that coming? She'd been naive to think that marriage could fix him. But she so desperately _wanted_ him to be fixed. Remus didn't deserve to be so tortured and guilt-ridden and to think so lowly of himself. The rings and the ceremony didn't matter- _she_ could fix him; she knew she could. With enough love and care and protection, he wouldn't see himself as a monster. Tonks promised herself that she'd do it. If it took the rest of her life, she would make him better.

Now, thankfully, the fussing is over and everybody is sat round the table in the midst of discussions. It's odd to see Ron and Fleur here as members of the Order (Hermione being here isn't remotely weird; she's always seemed about thirty-five). Mad-Eye is in charge, explaining where Harry's relatives will be taken to before the rest of the Order come for Harry.

"Lock 'em in the shed," Ron mutters audibly to Bill, who doesn't seem to be listening to him.

Tonks feels a hand on her wrist. She flicks her eyes sideways. Remus' face belies nothing, but his hand slips down her wrist and he links his fingers with hers. After the tension of the last few days he suddenly wants to hold her hand under the table, like they did back at Grimmauld Place all that time ago. Does this mean he's alright? _She_ kissed _him_ earlier, but now it's Remus whose reaching for her. Does this mean they're back to how things were before the full moon?

She squeezes his hand. His fingers are always cold. Her marvellous, perplexing, exhausting husband.

No, married life has not turned out how Tonks anticipated.


	49. Correspondence

Correspondence

 _Tonks,_

 _You must be scared and confused as you read this. Don't be. I am not in danger nor I have I been taken against my will. I am leaving of my own volition, and by the time you read this I will be elsewhere. Having a werewolf as a husband and father would always have made life difficult for you and your child, although the fall of the Ministry has made it indescribably dangerous. Your family connections put you in danger already, and I cannot stay here and exacerbate this. I am giving you both a chance to start again without me. While I do not delude myself that you and the baby will be free from danger, I know you will both be safer this way than if I stay a presence in your lives._

 _I am sorry to do this, but I am sorrier that I did you the cruelty of marrying you and putting you in this situation. It is nobody's fault but mine. Our marriage has made me immeasurably happy, but it was selfish to value my own happiness above your security, wellbeing and future. I am sorry for this grave mistake. I am sorry for the pain I have caused you, and for the pain I know that this will cause. I would not cause you such upset unless I was sure that it is in the best interests of you and your child. I am sorry too, for you and for your baby, if the child is a werewolf. I did not wish this for you but I have caused it._

 _I will continue to be involved in the Order of the Phoenix, although I plan to undertake Order work elsewhere. I will try to arrange matters so we do not have to meet each other. I do not wish to cause you more distress._

 _I am leaving all the money I have at present enclosed in an envelope. In a few days I will empty my vault and send you the remainder of my savings. It is not much but I hope it will help._

 _I apologise for everything I have done to you. It is nobody's fault but mine. I am truly sorry._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _RJL_


	50. Leagues

Leagues

He's out of her league. He sometimes mutters that he doesn't deserve her, but like a lot of what Remus says that's self-deprecating bullshit. She's the one who doesn't deserve him. At twenty-three you're _supposed_ to be thinking about yourself and your career, so it's not as if Tonks is ashamed of that. She just isn't sure why Remus, the most selfless person on the planet, wants to deal with it. He's patient with Sirius, Molly, the kids, Mundungus- everybody. He's wise, too; Tonks always had the knack for passing exams, and Auror training had been a case of mind over matter (with a big helping of Mad-Eye Moody). She's not going to pretend she isn't clever, but Remus has a wisdom and an articulateness (is that even a word? Remus would know) she can't begin to level. Tonks' bookshelf is stuffed with crime thrillers, detective fiction and spy stories, which again she isn't embarrassed about, although it makes her think how clever and patient Remus must be to understand the hefty Victorian tomes he's always lugging around with him. Debating him is fun because he's so smart and eloquent. Sometimes Tonks plays Devil's advocate and disagrees with Remus about something for the excitement of hearing him counter-argue. It's pretty bloody sexy too, and it makes her laugh when hw gives her that exasperatedly amused look when he realises she's only arguing with him for the sake of it. He's charming; he always has a hug or a hand-shake to offer, he's a good talker and an even better listener, and he's polite and friendly even when he's tired or it's near the full-moon. He's easy, pleasant company, and people like to be with him. Funny, too- he's wry and eloquent, and he knows exactly how to be Sirius' foil.

Tonks knows that Remus thinks of himself as boring. In fact, he is probably the most exciting person she knows. He's lived a really interesting life, lived in loads of places and done all sorts of jobs.

"Why are you asking about this?" he asked her recently, when she was needling him to tell her more about working in a Muggle steel factory.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because it isn't remotely interesting,"

 _"I_ think it is,"

He'd looked at her strangely, fondly, as if pleased about how bewildered he was by her. Tonks feels the same way- one of the most exciting things is that she has no idea what it's like in Remus' head. She likes to imagine that it's a library, and everything he knows is stored in a book. When he needs to know something he takes the book out of the shelf. She hopes that he has a whole bookshelf on her. She always thought she didn't have time for the mysterious sort of bloke, but he's different. Of course he's bloody different, he's different to everybody, he's an original.

She doesn't deserve a boyfriend who doesn't have much money for himself but who buys food to cook for her after work. Going out-out together didn't work, so they spend a lot of time in which, she reckons, means they've got closer more quickly. They were friends already, but staying in means they cut through the bullshit of dressing up and playing the dating game. She keeps telling him he doesn't have to cook, but he insists that he enjoys it. Loads of blokes would find that house-husband-iness emasculating, but that wouldn't even occur to Remus. Is that an older bloke thing, or is that just him? The older boyfriend thing _is_ a bit weird, especially as Remus such an old-fashioned older guy. He references stuff Tonks has never heard of, and he has no interest in modern music or fashion. Sometimes he mutters ashamedly that he knew her when she was little. He doesn't add anything but they both know the implication is that there's something improper or perverted about them, about him. Tonks insist that it doesn't matter- it was years ago and besides, most people they know met their partner at school. Plenty of girls have older boyfriends, and it isn't like there's _decades_ between her and Remus. He isn't her dad's age or anything creepy like that. It wasn't as if she decided boys her own age were too immature and intentionally went looking for a man thirteen years older but, actually, she's found she likes having an older boyfriend. Remus has lived a life already and has experience. He's stable and mature, and doesn't get petty or worry about little things. He doesn't get jealous about her having a good job. He knows what really matters.

Apparently older men are supposed to be better in bed, too but, well...they're working on that. The first time they tried, Remus got tense and twitchy, and they ended up just cuddling for the night. The three times they've managed to have sex since have seemed like a competition about who can ask, " _Is this okay?_ " " _Are you sure_?" and " _It's alright if you want to stop_ ," the most times. Remus hasn't had a girlfriend for a while, which means a lot of things. It means he's a careful rather than an expert lover. He doesn't entirely know what he's doing, but he's a pretty quick learner, and it helps that she thinks he's the sexiest man on the planet. (Objectively, Tonks knows that he is he not particularly handsome. Words that might be used to describe him are, "normal", "average", "quite", "rather", "sort of". Nothing "very" or "extremely", nothing bright or bold. For months when Tonks first knew him, she thought so too. She'd have said Remus was ordinary-looking, perhaps plain. And though she knows that's still realistically true, it seems daft now. His smile is gorgeous, his eyes are beautiful and kind. The greying hair and the spattering of crow's feet make him distinguished. They speak to the life and experiences he's lived. He's graceful and a bit effeminate, but there's a virility to his hoarse voice. He's a mismatch, inside and out, and it's intoxicating). Not having been in a relationship for a while means that Remus is an innocent in some ways- he likes kisses on his wrists and fingers and eyes, he can't talk dirty to save his life, he's very gentle and he needs her to be gentle back, he has this way of looking at her like he's bamboozled that they've ended up doing this together. Not having had a girlfriend for ages means that being only the person who gets to do this to him in years makes her feel proud and possessive and turned on as hell. Tonks was nervous too, the first time, but looking down at his pleased and surprised face, and feeling him hard inside her, was amazing. She owned him. Tonks wanted to ride him hard and fast, but she made herself ask, "Good?"

"Really good,"

His voice was a croak. Tonks found his hand and squeezed it.

"Can I move?" she asked.

"Yes. Slowly. Please,"

He said please in the middle of sex- who was this guy? He was so strange, so sweet.

"Okay. Slow," she murmured. She'd wanted him to hold her hips and grind her down onto him, but he'd kept squeezing her hand. She wanted him to moan her name, but he only murmured incoherently to himself. She wanted to groan _his_ name over and over, but she made herself ask if it was slow enough, and if it felt alright, and if he wanted to stop. She wanted to be looking into his eyes when he came, but it happened too early, and he had his eyes screwed shut. She didn't tell him to open them, or to say more, because this time was about _him_. Making him feel good, making him feel safe and reassured, making him feel special. He's so incredibly special. Afterwards, Remus was all relieved and cuddly, but then he got embarrassed about coming early, and the next time they tried sex it took him ages to get hard. He kept stammering apologies, no matter how many times Tonks told him it was fine.

"We don't have to if you can't- I mean, if you don't want to," she promised. Perhaps this was her fault- she'd poured them both a couple of glasses of wine in the hope that it'd help him to loosen up, but maybe it had made him _too_ relaxed.

"No, I do. I can. I want to,"

Remus was blushing and stumbling over his words. Usually, Tonks would laugh at that or feel turned on that she could make Mr Unflappable so flustered. But instead she'd felt embarrassed and sorry for him. Remus didn't say it out loud, but she could tell that it made him feel old and ill and useless. Last night, he went on top, which worked better for him, especially as it meant that they could keep kissing (he needs lots of kissing). He kept asking if he was hurting her, which was cute and caring, but also another annoying example of his werewolf paranoia. Tonks hopes that one day she can convince him to be less serious about it, to giggle their way through. He'd be better if he lightened up. But if she can't, and if he won't be up for experimenting- well, they'll have to have a dull sex life. It's not the most important thing in the world. Who cares if he's boring in bed, when everything else about him is thrilling and fascinating and fun?

Sex might be complicated to navigate, but Remus is fantastic at cuddling. He doesn't wriggle or grope. He doesn't moan about his arm going stiff, even when she asks him if he wants to switch positions. He tells the best stories. One of Tonks' favourite things to do is to snuggle up to him and ask him to tell her about the book he's reading (Remus' versions are more entertaining and _way_ less time-consuming than reading the actual book), make up a story, or tell her a silly anecdote about Sirius when he was younger.

"He'll skin me alive if he finds out I've told you this, so don't say anything to him," Remus grinned recently.

She batted her eyelashes innocently, "Would I?"

"Yes,"

She pouted, and Remus met her lips with a kiss, and told her a story about Sirius having to run back from Ravenclaw Tower naked in the middle of the night.

Sometimes, cuddling, Tonks says she needs to tell him something. She'll twist round so she's looking him the eye, and tell him how sweet and clever and patient and lovely he is. Remus is useless at taking compliments, obviously; too humble to acknowledge it. Sometimes that makes Tonks feel sorry for him, and other times it's irritating (once or twice she's been telling him a silly anecdote or about something at work, and she'll realise that it sounds like a boast. She wonders of he thinks she's on the other hand, he's used to dealing with Blacks). She likes to cuddle him and put words about how wise and wonderful he is in his ears. Sirius has told her, with a flippancy which makes it worse, that Remus sees himself as contaminated and corrupting. The fact that the idiot ignorant people in their world have made him believe that of himself makes Tonks want to punch somebody. She tells him that he isn't all those horrible things he thinks about himself. Once, she told him he was honourable, and Remus burst out laughing. That was understandable given that it's a stupid word, but it's true. He's fair, he keeps his promises, he doesn't tell lies.

"I didn't tell the truth about Sirius. I didn't tell Dumbledore that he was an Animagus, or that he knew about the secret passages," Remus had pointed out heavily.

"'Cos you knew in your heart that Sirius hadn't done it," Tonks insisted, "After all that time you didn't quite believe it of him, and you were right,"

He's perceptive like that, and loyal to his friends.

"I did believe it of him," Remus corrected, "I didn't want to, but I'd had thirteen years to get it into my head that that's what happened. I was being selfish,"

Tonks linked her fingers with his. "Dumbledore forgave you," she reminded him, " _I_ forgive you,"

"I'm not sure he forgives me for almost killing Peter in front of three fourteen-year-olds,"

She shrugged, "You were angry. He deserved it. _And_ you didn't _actually_ do it,"

"I would have done if it hadn't been for Harry,"

"Unfortunately Harry's fifteen, and at boarding school, and last Ginny told me he's going out with the Ravenclaw seeker, so until he becomes available I'll have to put up with you, won't I? "

He made a couple of mistakes when he was angry and confused- so what? He's still the most honourable guy she knows.

"Anyway," Tonks added, running her index finger down the side of his face, "Everybody knows that you were just showing off in front of Sirius".

Everybody shows off on front of Sirius. He's got that annoying quality about him which makes people want him to think they're cool. Remus needs someone like that. She's a Black so perhaps she's biased, but Tonks reckons Sirius was and is a much healthier influence on Remus than most people like to admit. It makes her happy to see them together, and to know Remus has got his friend back. He hasn't had a friend for years, he's been so lonely. The world has been unfair on Remus. It's thrown hardship after humiliation at him, and that would make anybody else become bitter, angry or cold. Remus is none of those things. He is patient, dignified, accepting and warm. He is kind.

It's not just her who doesn't deserve him- it's the world.


	51. Glittery

p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"span style="max-height: 999999px; text-decoration-line: underline;"Glittery/span/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"emIntelligent eyes in a hunger-pang frame,/em/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"emAnd when you said "Hi" I forgot my dang name,/em/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"emSet my heart aflame,/em/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"emEvery part aflame,/em/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"emThis is not a game./em/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"- Hamilton, emSatisfied./em/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Remus Lupin is kind. He is articulate. He is brave./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"He is also unbelievably sexy./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Tonks isn't sure how she didn't notice it for the first few months they were acquainted, because now it's nearly all she thinks about. His curly hair is neatly cropped, begging to be pulled and rumpled and have hands run through it. His features are quietly pretty rather than Bill handsome or Sirius beautiful. Tonks likes that; understatedness suits him. His eyes are sad and hazel and achingly kind. His smile's often sad too. It's gentle and understanding. He understands a lot./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"She could listen to Remus' accent all day. It's noticeable but not as distractingly strong as Mundungus' or McGonagall's, and he doesn't mind when the twins mimic him. His accent lilts and sways as he stretches vowels and rolls his Rs. He's got one of those voices which like he's got a permanent sore throat. Husky. Masculine. Inadvertently sensual. What would it sound like in her ear? She likes how Remus' mouth twitches when he's amused. It makes her smile too but more than that it makes her want to press her lips against his grin and suck on his bottom lip. More often than not he doesn't wear a tie and keeps the top button or two of his shirt undone, and Tonks finds herself eyeing his throat where the hoarse noise comes from. She watches his Adam's apple bob when he swallows and how his neck moves when he cocks his head. Sometimes she can see the spot where his clavicles meet, and it makes her imagine it would feel like to run a finger down from those collar-bones, over his chest to his ribcage. She considers, endlessly, what Remus would look like with his shirt off. He's thin, no doubt about that, but Tonks has seen him carry armfuls of books upstairs and restrain an angry Sirius, so she likes to imagine that there's the gentle outline of muscle underneath those cardigans./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"He rolls his sleeves up most of the time so Tonks sees a lot of his arms, at least up to the elbow. Remus hasn't had much luck at holding down a job but they're workman's arms. Wand callouses, red elbows from leaning on the table, flecks of ink from writing. Slender and bony. Every few weeks there'll be scratches and plasters on his arms. She knows that Sirius buys him a potion to control the wolf transformations, but he still has to get ill and become the monster and spend the night in that body, and he can't help catching himself on his own claws. It makes Tonks feel sick. Remus doesn't talk about it much but she knows that it must hurt, physically and emotionally and in every way. It amazes her how quickly she stopped being startled by his condition and started feeling sympathy for him. It amazes her more how little she cares about it now. Whenever Remus notices somebody looking at the cuts on his arms he rolls his sleeves down, and she feels ashamed./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"His hands are the most distracting. They're so elegant; the opposite of Tonks' own clumsy pair. He's neat with his cutlery. He scrabbles urgently in his pockets when he needs his wand. He plays piano sometimes, noodling away on the old grand in the Grimmauld Place drawing room, and Tonks watches his hands intently as he plays. Sirius had lessons in classical as a child and hated them, so now he likes improvise his own music, thwacking out thumping allegro rock riffs. That's much more Tonks' style of music than the Chopin and Beethoven that Remus plays, but she could watch for hours the way his fingers press smoothly on the keys. Then there's the movement of Remus' feet on pedals and the flicker of excitement in his eye as he reaches up to turn the sheet-music's page. On occasion he and Sirius attempt duets but it usually ends in friendly bickering and bumped elbows. Tonks' favourite thing Remus' hands do, though, is touch books. Of course he'd treat books with a careful tenderness. He slowly runs his index finger down spines and she wonders what that would feel like on emher/em spine. He licks his finger to turn the page (his tongue, his emtongue/em….). He rubs his thumb over front covers. He smooths dog-eared pages flat./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Remus' hands are one of the many things about him which seem extremely deliberate, like the way he moves around rooms as if he has mapped his exact route. He is a man of control and Tonks wonders what he would be like not in control. What it would be like the emmake him/em lose control. To be the one in control of him. Is he into that, or is he like most blokes and wants to be assertive in bed? But Remus isn't like most blokes. He isn't like anybody. He's so emcool. /emNot in a deliberate or showboating way; he doesn't need to put on airs or affectations because he's got quiet confidence in himself and who he is. He can join in self-deprecatingly when the twins and Sirius rib him, and he can laugh at others while also keeping an eye to make sure that they're not too insulted by the teasing. He can be the dad of the group or he can tilt back on his chair sniggering with Sirius. Tonks is all extremes but Remus is balanced; he's gentlemanly but not mannered. His clothes are scruffy but never slobby. He doesn't thinks he's better than anybody because he's read books and knows about Shakespeare. He's got amazing patience. She watched him with the kids over the Summer and he's part-teacher part-friend; they trust his judgement without reckoning that he's talking down to them. They all think he's cool./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"At night she shuts her eyes and fantasises picturing his. She dreams of his husky voice and wakes up with his name on her lips. She can barely look him eye at Order meeting the next day or when they're sitting together on the back porch sharing idle chatter and a chocolate bar. They've done that a few times now, even though it's Winter and chilly outside, and it's becoming the highlight of her day./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""You're quiet today," he notes one morning as he crumples the empty chocolate wrapper into his pocket, "Everything alright?"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"What is she supposed to say? emSorry I'm quiet this morning but it's difficult to gossip about Percy Weasley when I'm so distracted by that patch of skin I can see where your shirt's untucked at the hip./em/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"emDo you want to drop everything and come upstairs with me? I won't tell if you won't./em/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"emEverything's fine apart from the fact that I am falling for you harder. And harder, Remus. Harder./em/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"emI get myself off thinking about you./em/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"emThe only thing that could make me madder than not kissing you right now, is kissing you right now./em/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""I- err. I…"- that's another thing that happens; she gets tongue-tied around him. Which is ridiculous because they were emfriends /emfirst, not to mention excruciating because Lupin could probably deliver an improvised lecture on Red Caps or politics or the meaning of life while half-asleep. Asleep- yeah, that's a good angle, she should stick with that. Tonks yawns and tells him with a shrug, "I'm just tired,"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Right," he nods thoughtfully (how the hell does he make nodding so attractive? Or maybe it's the thoughtfulness), "Being in the Order's exhausting, isn't it? I'd forgotten about that,"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Did you miss it?" she asks, "I know you missed the people, but as a…lifestyle or whatever, did you miss that?" Lifestyle? What a stupid thing to say./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""I didn't miss the danger," Remus says quickly, "But I suppose I missed having a purpose. Maybe miss isn't the right word,"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"emHaving a purpose/em….this, she realises, is the closest he'll get to a proper career./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Hmm," she mumbles. They lapse into silence. Tonks often finds long silences awkward but with him it's comfortable, at least because she isn't about to stutter something else stupid. She steals a glance at him; he's looking out into the ugly dark thickets that surround the garden, hands in pockets and hair rumpled slightly by the wind. If she leaned over she could reach out and muss it up further. Run her fingers down from his hair to his ear and jaw and mouth.../p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Remus, are you there?" calls a voice. Kingsley./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Tonks snaps her head away from Remus and looks down at her boots./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Yes, I'm outside," he answers, "D'you need me?"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Please," comes Kingsley's reply./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Of course,"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Remus gets to his feet and stretches. Tonks hears the bones in his knees click. She tries not to watch the at the way his fingers stretch skywards or how he screws his eyes closed, or that bigger patch of skin where his shirt's riding up./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Bye, then," he says, "Will you be around later?". He emwants /emher to be around later?/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Err, maybe," Tonks answers apologetically, "Hours are a bit unpredictable at the office,"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"He nods (again with the sexy nod) and mutters, "Well, I'll see you when I see you, Tonks. Out here again?"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"He emdoes /emwant her to be around later, and emalone /emtogether. Merlin. She thought she'd seen flickers of this before but he's never said anything out loud until now. No, slow down, he hasn't said anything, she shouldn't get carried away./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Yeah, of course," she answers, trying not to beam like an idiot./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"He flashes his kind smile again (Remus would never beam like an idiot), nods, and disappears inside./p 


	52. September Dusk

September Dusk

He's never liked her. Severus doesn't like anybody much, but she was one of his least favourites of her cohort. He disliked the way she wanted to be called by her last name. Lots of the boys styled themselves that way and it irritated Severus that when he called them by their second name it sounded familiar and friendly, rather than the detached formality befitting of a teacher. He hadn't met many girls who preferred to be known by their surnames, which made him suspicious of her from the outset. Early on he decided to always call her by her first name, a name which wasn't as bad as she protested. He hated the way she turned up late to lessons and answered back and had the handwriting of a blind five-year-old. He despised her Metamorphmagus abilities. Her hair was different every lesson, or she'd be the smallest girl in the class one day and almost as tall as Severus the next. She'd distract everybody by messing with her nose and ears. Once, in her third year, she made herself look like Khadeeja Tails, who sat beside her. Severus put her in detention for a week, disturbed by the thought that she could make herself look the same as somebody else. She could make herself look like Severus himself. The idea made his skin crawl. Mostly, though, she used her abilities for attention. Severus had always hated show-offs. He should have known by her arrogance that she was related to Black. When Severus found that out, he liked her even less.

He disliked how she was always spilling ingredients, dropping vials and nicking her fingers with her knife. He didn't like how her roots were bunglingly sliced and her Sopophorous beans hard. He detested the fact that despite this, she was the best in her year at Potions. Severus tried again and again to discourage her; detention after detention, marking her down in tests, finding excuses to pour her brew away in the middle of an assessment so that she had to start again with half as much time as the rest of the class. None of it worked. She marched in every lesson, slung her bag on the table and started determinedly setting out her equipment. Severus never managed to make her cry, and every year she seemed to get better at his subject, not worse. She was the type of pupil Severus had always despised; the ones who were clever and hardworking, but still had friends and made jokes and ambled in yawning on a Monday morning after a common room party. Severus heard her mention her ambition to be an Auror and was looking forward to crushing it with an E in Potions (an A if he was lucky). But her practical exam was perfect and she only dropped three marks in the written assessment. Severus remembers the sinking feeling when he tasted her potion, and how he clenched his Quill with rage as he inscribed the "O" on the front of her exam paper. After that, he had to put up with another two years of her clattering and chatter and her ridiculous hairstyles. She didn't stop talking about being an Auror during her NEWTs, and she even started demanding extra homework. Severus didn't think they'd take her seriously at the Auror department, and he told her so himself. Her potions, though, remained excellent. By the time she took her NEWT exams, Severus was pre-occupied preparing himself for Potter's arrival that Autumn, although it was impossible to ignore the news that she'd been accepted into the Auror academy, because Professor Sprout had written to all the professors to tell them (showing off, again. Weren't Hufflepuffs supposed to be humble?).

Severus was surprised to see her in the Order a few years later. He ignored her at first, and she stayed out of his way too. Occasionally Severus saw her throw a nasty glare in his direction, but that was nothing new. Severus was used to receiving nasty glares; he almost liked it. Sometimes if she was irritating him he'd make a snide comment about her age or her gawkishness or how surprised he was that she'd passed her Auror training (the truth, Severus and everybody else knew, was only because Mad-Eye Moody had cheated the system to get her through. Severus' respect for Moody dipped after realising that Mad-Eye had chosen her as his favourite, and that he was the reason she was in the Order in the first place). He never mentioned her hair or her clothes or how she messed around with her appearance. He knew that that was all for attention, and Severus wasn't going to give her that satisfaction.

He'd first got wind of her dalliance with Lupin when he'd arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place for a meeting on a blustery February evening. Severus walked through the hallway and had half-opened the door to the dining room before realising that Lupin and Black were alone in there. He'd let go of the doorknob abruptly and backed into the corner of the corridor to wait for someone else to arrive. He wasn't going to go into a room alone with Black and his lackey. Severus could hear them talking, but he didn't care about listening in until Black burst out, "For Merlin's sake, just _ask her out!"_

Severus raised his eyebrows, unsure that he had heard right.

"Sirius, give it a rest," Severus heard Lupin retort through the door.

"It's Valentine's Day next week, here's your chance. You march up to her and ask her if she fancies a drink,"

Severus was stunned. _Lupin_ was after somebody? And a _her_ at that? Poor woman.

"No," said Lupin stiffly.

"Why not?" Black whined.

"She'll say no. Chances are she won't ever want to speak to me again, and-" Lupin cut himself off.

"And you like her too much to entertain that possibility," Black chuckled, "You really are smitten, aren't you?"

There was the sound of someone being clapped on the back.

"I like her as a friend," Lupin murmured, as if beginning a confession.

Black snorted.

"And I want to keep her as a friend. I don't want to endanger that," Lupin continued.

"I will never understand you," marvelled Black.

"Thank heaven for that," Lupin sighed.

Severus jolted as a pompous voice boomed, "Ah, good evening Severus,"

Severus spun around to see Sturgis Podmore striding through the hall towards him. Severus groaned internally. Podmore didn't seem to have understood that Severus disliked him

"Everything alright at Hogwarts?" Podmore asked briskly, shaking Severus' hand.

"Delightful," Severus drawled.

"What are you doing here, skulking like a schoolboy?" demanded Podmore. He pushed open the dining room door. "Sirius, Remus, good evening," he greeted grandly, as Severus loped in behind.

"Hello, Poddy," said Lupin, "Hello, Severus,"

Severus ignored him.

"Remus just said hello to you," snapped Black, "Left your manners with your shampoo, have you?"

Black's taunts hardly touched Severus anymore. The man was a coward. Severus saw Lupin kick Black under the table.

"Let's not get off to a bad start," blustered Podmore, then added with relief, "Ah, Molly, good evening,"

The Weasleys' mother had brought a gaggle of Order members with her, talking and bickering as they walked into the dining room. Their chatter irritated Severus, although at least they spared him from being alone with Black.

Walking back to his room at Hogwarts later that night, Severus remembered the conversation between Lupin and Black. He could almost laugh at the preposterousness of Lupin being having designs on somebody. The only idea more amusing was that a woman could have designs on Lupin back, which, despite what Black had been implying, was impossible. Lupin was ill, dull and a dangerous creature. Nobody could fall in love with a werewolf. Lupin had insisted to Black that he couldn't peruse anything, clearly trying to avoid causing himself pain. Although, mused Severus, pushing open the door to his quarters, there was still hope that this mystery woman would shatter him into pieces.

Diggle let slip who the woman was. The old man was as subtle as a bludger and blurted it out one evening a few weeks later.

"Where's Tonks and Remus?" William Weasley piped up. Severus didn't like him either.

"They're in Diagon Alley, I hear she's finally persuaded him to accompany her out,"

"What?" asked Weasley, "Are they, like, together?"

"Goodness gracious Godric, I wasn't supposed to tell anybody!" squeaked Diggle. He was almost as bad as Filius.

Severus pretended not to care, but the thought of it being Nymphadora who was the object of Lupin's affection was bizarre. She was barely out of school, and Lupin was the same age as Severus. Who'd have thought Remus Lupin had a predilection to younger women? Severus shuddered. He'd seen Lupin transformed during Black's little prank, and the sight had sickened and appalled him. The werewolf was huge, dirty and grotesque, gnashing and frothing at the mouth as if rabid. Such a creature was unloveable. Such a monster was undeserving of love.

It was just like Nymphadora though, to be enticed by Lupin's affliction. She'd see it at a challenge and a bragging point. She'd always rattled on about her Muggle-born father (as if that was anything interesting) so of course she'd be thrilled at the prospect of going further, of embarking on a relationship with a dark creature. He can imagine her gleefully announcing it to everyone she met, thrilled at their horror, relishing the attention. Severus curled his lip in disdain. The odd thing was that Lupin hated attention. He was a coward, the sort of man who looked as if he wanted to blend into the wallpaper. Severus had no idea what they saw in each other, yet when yet they had walked into the Grimmauld Place kitchen a few minutes later, windswept and grinning, it was clear that they had been somewhere together (Nymphadora's explanation of, "We just bumped into each other outside," was unconvincing). Severus supposed that he'd seen her making a nuisance of herself around Grimmauld Place the last few times he had visited, although he'd assumed she was there to see Black, so they could cackle and brag and indulge in their revolting ostentatiousness together. It had never occurred to him that she might there to see Lupin too. It had never occurred to Severus that anybody would _ever_ go out of their way to see Lupin. He'd always got the impression that Lupin thought the same.

Severus knew it would end badly, so he was unsurprised a few weeks ago when Dumbledore informed him that Lupin would be away on Order business until at least Christmas. Severus hadn't asked where or why, but it wasn't difficult to work out what had happened. Nymphadora must have seen the insanity of her ways and left him, and now Lupin had signed himself up for a long-term posting to get over her. Or perhaps he had split up from Nymphadora, was sick of the sight of her and wanted to be rid of her for good. That was understandable, Severus mused. He hid his pleasure when Dumbledore told him the news, although that happiness faded when he realised how dramatic Nymphadora would be about it all. Thankfully, Severus had been busy with his own Order work over the Summer, so he hadn't had to suffer any more awful meetings in the now-dead Black's house. Severus was pleased. He was glad to avoid the whole lot of them.

Severus ponders all this as he's heading down towards the gates (he's been guarding the doorway, waiting for Potter. The boy is late, of course. He rarely deigns to attend the start-of-term feast on time. Crashing a flying car, fainting theatrics on the train, various little trips to see his Housemistress who invariably lets him off for his misdemeanours. The school has a different rulebook for Potter, although Severus has given up mentioning this to Dumbledore, who remains infatuated with the boy). A Patronus had arrived and told him that Potter was safe (disappointing, Severus mused), and was being brought up to the castle (precious Potter must have a babysitter wherever he goes). The Patronus had spoken in Nymphadora's voice, which was strange since last time Severus had seen her cast the charm, her protector had appeared as an annoying rabbit-y thing. It had changed, then- and it had changed into a wolf. Lupin. Severus could almost laugh. How utterly pathetic she was. How long had she known Lupin- a year? Nowhere near long enough to fall in love. It was an illusion, a delusion of love. She was stupid and weak. Severus should have a word with Moody about her- she clearly didn't have the resilience of an Auror.

Severus can see her by the gates with Potter now. Potter, he notes, has grown- all the more reason to cut him back down the size. He isn't wearing his uniform and, Severus notes as he holds up his lantern, the boy's face is smeared with blood. Severus does not feel sorry for him.

"Well, well, well. Nice of you to turn up, Potter, although you have evidently decided that the wearing of school robes would detract from your appearance," he drawls, unlocking the chained gate with his wand.

The boy begins to protest but Snape ignores him, turning his attention to Nymphadora. She looks drab; there is no sign of her usual ludicrous hairstyles. Severus assures her that there is no need to accompany them further- contrary to what the Order choose to believe about their golden boy, Potter does not need _two_ escorts to walk him into school. He will have been spoiled enough by Weasley's relatives over the Summer, and of course on his little sojourn with Dumbledore. The boy needs reminding that he is not the king of this castle.

"I meant Hagrid to get the message," Nymphadora says. Severus gets a closer look at her face as she frowns at him, and he notices that she doesn't look merely drab- she looks dreadful. Pasty and gaunt-looking. Stupid girl must believe she's had her heart broken, Severus thinks. She wouldn't know the first thing.

"Hagrid was late for the start-of-term feast, just like Potter here, so I took it instead," Severus explains, letting Potter in through the gate (the temptation to shut him outside forever is a strong one) before slamming it shut.

"And incidentally, I was interested to see your new Patronus. I think you were better off with the old one," he tells Nymphadora.

Severus sees hurt flash across her face in the lamplight and feels a gleam of satisfaction. Did she expect to go around with a new Patronus, looking dour as widow, and garner _sympathy?_ More theatrics, as usual. She's brought this all on herself- and so has Lupin, for pretending to be a man when everyone knows that he's a beast. They are both foolish and naive, and Nymphadora deserves to feel this illusion of anguish for getting involved with a werewolf. Somebody as self-centred as her could not imagine that real love is not about you. It is about the other person. Putting yourself through any humiliation or pain for them, lying and begging for their life and safety, willingness to sacrifice anything. Love is rarely about happiness, and never about you. Nymphadora's brief infatuation with the werewolf has given her no understanding of this. Of loss. Heartbreak. Despair.

Love.

Severus taps his wand so that the chains snake back around the gates.

"The new one looks weak".

* * *

 **…that's one of my favourite Snape moments, it's so nasty and hypocritical. Needless to say, the dialogue between Snape, Tonks and Harry at the gate is taken from _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ by JK Rowling. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please review to let me know what you thought. **

**PS- The early paragraphs of this fic owe some ideas to _Picking Lilies_ by Lady Altair, which I recommend if you enjoy Snape-fic.**


	53. Alex

**This chapter is set an hour or so after the end of _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix._**

Alex

Alex is bored. She's got four hours left of her shift at the Queen's Head, and the pub isn't showing any signs of quietening down. She's going to be on her feet the whole time, but it's a Wednesday so there's no chance of a fight or something exciting happening. It'll be another four hours of pulling pints, half-hearted flirting for tips, and clearing up empty crisp-packets which customers leave on tables. Can't they see the bins?

Alex started working at the Queen's Head since last Autumn. It's July now and there's loads of new staff just started for the Summer period, so Alex is seen as somewhat of a veteran, especially as most of the new lot are hopeless. She doesn't _hate_ her job, but she thought that at twenty-six she'd be doing something else with her life. It's dispiriting to see all the city boys swagger in from Chancery Lane, barely older than her but probably on twenty times her wage. Alex doesn't flirt with them- the tips aren't worth the embarrassment.

Today though, city boys seem outnumbered by- well, other people. Strange people, dressed in cloaks and billowing scarves and those type of robes that old-fashioned schoolteachers on TV wear. Except that on TV the robes are black, whereas today Alex has seen robes in purples and greens and burgundies. Quite a few of the strange people have been carrying cages and tanks too- Alex is sure that she saw one girl stuffing a frog into her pocket. Alex has a vague recollection of something similar happening around Christmas. It's probably some convention or something, she thinks wearily. King's Cross is around the corner, so they'll have all come down for the day. You get all sorts of nutters round here.

"Alex," chirps Dana, appearing at Alex's elbow, "There's been a spillage on table five, can you clear it up for me?"

Dana has a habit of wording things like that- _if you don't mind, will you do that for me, can I ask you to_ …as if she isn't Alex's boss, as if Alex could turn round and say no. Fat chance.

"Sure," Alex sighs, grabbing a hulk of blue-roll and stomping over to table five. It's the nearest one to the door- none of the regulars sit there because it's right in the draft. Alex yanks a few sheets off the blue-roll roll and starts dabbing it onto the sodden wood. The spilled drink has gone all over the table and onto the floor, although at least table five is on the floorboards, not the carpet. It's a nightmare when beer gets spilt on the carpet.

Alex is finishing up when the door opens and two people walk in. Usually Alex wouldn't blink twice at that, but she's distracted by a flash of long red hair. belonging to one of the newcomers. Red as in literally red, not just ginger. She glances up to see that the owner of the red hair is a girl about her own age, accompanied by a man in a battered overcoat. He's obviously her dad, judging from his looks and the way he's grumbling about her hairstyle:

"...could you please try something more inconspicuous?" he's saying.

"Everybody saw us together on the platform," points out the girl. She's shorter than Alex and she's got one of those piercings that goes through the top part of her ear. Her jeans have patches all over them, and she's wearing a t-shirt with Weird plastered over the front. She looks weird, Alex reckons. Must be part of that convention, and she's had to drag her dad along too for some reason. He looks weary.

Dana beckons Alex back over to the bar then, so she doesn't hear the rest of the conversation between the father and daughter. She notices the two of them sit down at table sixteen, in the back corner, and after a few minutes the redheaded girl goes to the bar to order a WKD for herself and a beer for her dad. Alex is busy fighting with the dodgy wine tap, but she hears the girl's accent- Northern, maybe Manchester- and the cheery manner she addresses Sharika, whose working on the bar, even though it takes Sharika ages to find the WKD in the fridge, and she gives the redhead the wrong change. Alex usually rolls her eyes at convention nutters, but there's something interesting about the redhead and her dad. Once Alex has finished fixing the tap, she finds herself watching them. The girl talks and gesticulates a lot, laughing and fidgeting and gesturing with her hands. It seems as if she's trying to cajole her dad, who isn't having any of it. He looks knackered and a bit sickly, and sometimes his gaze drifts over to the door. The redhead taps his arm to keep him looking at her, until eventually the bloke moves her hand away, folds his arms on the table and turns to face her. Alex is hopeless at lip-reading, but his posture seems to indicate an _I-need-to-talk-to-you_ sincerity. The girl understands immediately, because she shuts up and leans towards him. Alex drifts over to listen, carrying her tray so she can pretend to be clearing glasses at the table nextdoor. Although on the way over, Raymond, one of the newer staff, crashes into her carrying a crate of beers.

"Ray!" growls Alex.

"Sorry. Didn't see you there,"

"You're not even meant to walk across the pub with these, go round the side door,"

"Oops. Forgot," he grins, flashing her the smile Alex knows he likes to think of as charming.

She doesn't much like having a go at people, so she simply gives him an eyeroll and wanders over to tale sixteen. By the time she gets there, the dad has already delivered whatever bad news he needed to, and the girl is left looking baffled and stunned. Alex sidles up beside them.

"I don't understand," says the redhead.

"I think we should end this. I know we should," the bloke replies, studying his coaster. Alex frowns- _End this?_ That makes it sound like they're an item.

"I understood what you _said._ I meant I don't understand…why? Why now? I don't- you can't- I don't understand,"

"This isn't right. I didn't want to admit that to myself, but it's been wrong all along. I'm making life difficult for you, I'm putting you in danger. It's time I stopped pretending," says the man. He's splitting up with her. Alex hasn't seen that in the pub before. It's strange to break up with someone after going to a convention together, Alex thinks. That's going to be one awkward train journey home. She tries to take a closer look to see if the guy is younger than she first thought.

"Pretending what?" asks the redhead.

He stares at his coaster and doesn't reply, and Alex can't see him well enough now to check if he's younger than he looks. Or perhaps it's the girl whose older than she seems. Or perhaps she's got daddy issues.

"Pretending what, Venus?" demands the girl. She still looks shocked, as if the reality of what's happening hasn't hit her. Alex has been there before- the feeling of _what? No, this isn't happening, this is not allowed to happen._

"You know," the guy mumbles.

The redhead flinches for a moment. Silence. Then the realisation seems to strike her- it _is_ happening. Her gaunt-looking older boyfriend is ditching her. He looks torn, so either doesn't actually want to end it, or he's a good actor.

"You don't mean this- you're, just feeling sad and guilty, and you always want to blame yourself," blurts the girl, anguish flooding her face.

"I do mean it. I'm sorry, I knew you'd be upset, but that's all the more reason why I should put a stop to this foolishness,"

"It isn't foolishness. God, what are you saying? I thought you loved me," her face crumples, "You told me you love me,"

The man hangs his head. If he's acting, Alex notes, he's laying it on pretty thick. And he didn't actually tell her what he was pretending about. Maybe he was pretending he's single when really he's got a wife and kids at home. That'd explain why he looks tired. And the red-headed girl seems a bit full-on. Alex feels sympathy for her, but what did she expect from getting involved with a married man?

Her observation is interrupted by a woman in far-too-high heels tottering out of the toilets and asking Alex if she's seen a man called Steve with blond hair.

"No, I'm afraid," Alex shrugs, keen to get rid of her.

"That's not very helpful," says the women.

"I'm sorry, we don't take a register here," says Alex, smiling sweetly "Why not check outside in the smoking area?"

"Stevie don't smoke," says the woman. She gives Alex a glare but staggers away again, and Alex leans back towards table sixteen, where the redheaded girl has raised her voice again.

"Would you being doing this if Syria hadn't died?" she demands, "Well, would you?"

"I don't know. I hope so. I'm ashamed it's taken this long for me to realise how selfish I've been,"

"Selfish!?" explodes the redhead, kicking the table so that it judders sideways and her drink tips over. Alex can't help but feel a shudder of annoyance- something else to clear up. On the other hand, it gives Alex a handy excuse for if Dana catches her loitering here- she'll claim that she's waiting for the arguing couple to leave so she can wipe up the spillage.

"I understand that you're angry," the guy is saying. There's a note of deliberate, almost forced patience in his voice, as if he has anticipated having to say these words, "I know this is a shock-"

"You need me more than ever now he's gone, you know you do. We- we can help each other. I thought maybe after a few more weeks you'd be ready to talk about him. Merlin knows I've wanted to talk to you, but you just shut down,"

"I know, and I'm sorry. I've been thinking about things. About this,"

"You've been waiting until I got out of hospital. You took me to a pub in the middle of the afternoon- I thought it was weird that you wanted to come here today, when there's loads of people we know around. You reckoned it'd be easier, didn't you?" the redhead accuses, and Alex can tell that she's close to tears, "You thought that if we're in public I'd keep my mouth shut and go quietly, leave you in peace to go back to your boring, lonely life where everything's rubbish and everything's your fault and nobody loves you,"

The girl is shouting now and it isn't just Alex whose staring at them. The man can clearly tell that they've attracted attention, and he looks as if he wants to melt into the floor.

"I understand you're angry," he repeats, "Perhaps I should leave. I'm planning to go away for a while soon. Dumbledore told me-"

"Yet more advance planning, an O for you in Mission Prep," shrieks the girl, "Anybody else you told about this before you told me? That's typical you, isn't it- nobody's allowed to know when we're together, but you've told everyone and their Kneazle that you're breaking up with me. Do you know how melodramatic that is? Everybody has to know about how unhappy you are,"

"I haven't told anyone," responds the man in a quiet, firm tone. The girl jams her hands over her face and starts to cry. There is a long moment of uncomfortable silence, and then the man gets to his feet.

"I think I should go now," he murmurs. The girl's distracted by sobbing, and the man frowns as if perplexed about what to do next. Eventually he says, "I don't suppose I'll see you for a while, so I think it's best if you try to forget about me,"

The redhead tears her hands away from her eyes. "How? How can I forget you? I love you,"

Alex thought that that hammer-blow was coming. It's a well-timed proclamation from the girl, who clearly has flair for dramatics. The redhead's hand darts out to grab the bloke's arm. He squirms but doesn't pull away.

"Kiss me," the girl pleads, "Just one more time,"

The man stares at the floor.

"I can't," he whispers, hoarse.

She gazes up at him. "Please,"

That's almost the nail in the coffin of the bloke's well-practised Poker face. He looks at the girl (though Alex notes that his eyes refuse to meet hers), then at the door, then back at the girl, then at over at the bar. His shoulders rise, then slump as he sighs heavily. He moves towards the redhead, bends down awkwardly and kisses her on the top of her head. Gentle. Paternal. Alex sees the girl's eyes screw up tight and a tear spill onto her cheek. It wasn't the type of kiss she wanted, and she knows that he knows that. If anything, it's hurt her more.

The man straightens up and walks briskly away towards the door of the Queen's Head. There's a thump as the redhead bangs the tabletop again, but the man doesn't react. He opens the front door and walks outside onto the street. Alex half-expects the girl to run after him like in the movies- but although the redhead twists around in her seat, she doesn't get up. There's another long moment of quiet and bewilderment and pain. Then the girl glances round, as if noticing for the first time that this whole scene has taken place in public (Alex isn't sure how genuine that realisation is- if you're going to walk into a pub wearing bright red hair and with WEIRD spread across your chest, you're asking for attention, even before you start crying and shouting and kicking tables)- although almost everybody who was watching a minute ago has gone back to their drinks and their conversations.

Alex reckons that the nice thing to do might be to go over and ask the girl if she's okay. Sister solidarity and all that, especially as another tear is now dribbling down the girl's face. But Alex has never known what to say in those situations, and she'll probably get in trouble with Dana. Best to let the redhead have a bit of cry, then order herself get a drink and pull herself together. Moreover, Alex muses, shifting the chairs at table sixteen, there was something….off about the whole scene, even for the weirdos from the convention. For a start, what kind of names are Venus, Dumbledore and Syria? Who's the person who died, and what's that got to do with the couple's break-up? (Did they said "died"? Or did they just say "gone"? Gone where?). And what were they doing together in the first place, that older, quiet man in grey and the fiery redhead? He'd said that there was something wrong about their relationship, and she'd mentioned him feeling guilty...what if they're relatives, Alex thinks with alarm. That'd explain the age difference too, and why the girl mentioned that he never usually wanted to be seen out with her. He must be a proper manipulator- all the embarrassment and guilt and mumbling were an act. She said he'd told her he loved her- that must have been an act, too. What a creep.

...Or perhaps Alex is being dramatic. That kind of thing doesn't really happen in real life, or at least not in this grotty little pub on Grey's Inn Road. Perhaps that rules the affair out too. It's likely something much more mundane- the person called Syria probably hasn't literally died, and the man might just look older because he's poorly. Alex feels abruptly sorry for him, and guilty for assuming he was cheat or a perv. He'd looked ashamed and embarrassed, and the girl had given him a hard time. It was obvious that the man ditching her was a complete curveball- she'd seemed really happy before. She didn't seem to care that her fella was older and unhealthy- looking. Quite romantic really, Alex muses. She glances over to see the redhead scrubbing her face with her t-shirt. She seems like she could do with a hug, but Alex isn't going to try. Someone from the girl's convention will likely be along in a minute, and they'll probably be of more use to her than Alex will.

Dana catches her eye from across the room and Alex hurriedly shoves an empty ketchup pouch and a teaspoon onto her tray to look as if she's doing something. She scurries back to the bar to empty the tray, then does another couple of laps of the pub collecting glasses. Pervy Relative is ruled out, and Affair probably is too. So why did the man sound so guilty about the relationship? In fact, didn't he say he was _dangerous_? Or perhaps that was something else Alex misheard? Maybe he's sick. That'd explain why he looks old and unwell, but not really why he's dangerous. Well, that was possibly an exaggeration, and he might have just meant unreliable or unstable. What if that's what the person called Syria died of? Yes, that's it, Alex thinks- Syria dying has reminded the man that he's ill too. It's probably something chronic like Stuart's dad had, and the man wants to end things with the girl before he gets really sick too. That long name- Daddle-door, was it?- might be a doctor (loads of doctor's these days are foreign, which would explain the strange name), and the man could be going away to a clinic or hospice. Poor bloke. And poor girl, even if she was daft to get involved with someone with a serious illness. She'd looked so happy with him that Alex wonders if she'd forgotten he was sick. That happens when you're in love- at least, Alex reckons it does.

"Hey, Alex, the till's stuck again- can you help me out?" asks a voice. Sharika has popped up beside Alex, looking worried.

Alex sighs. "Yeah. One sec,"

"I kind of need you now," says Sharika, chewing her lip.

"Fine. Let's see," says Alex disinterestedly. She hooks her tray under her arm and follows Sharika to the bar. Back to real life and real work- not stupid conspiracies about strangers splitting up. The fact is, Alex tells herself, she'll never know who those two people were or what their situation was, and she'll never see them again. She needs to put her head down and get on with the rest of the shift (according to her watch, only three hours and forty minutes to go now). And then the next shift, and the next, and the next, until she can stop working at this dump and get on with her life. Better to focus on her own problems than the lives of strangers. Alex ducks behind the bar and flicks the till open with a thump. She should do what the ill man told his girlfriend to do- forget all about them.


	54. Necessary Prodding

**Much like everybody's favourite fugitive godfather, this chapter has been waiting a while to see the light. It's set during _OotP_ , a few days after the "If you weren't too busy feeling sorry for yourself to notice" incident as described by JKR on Lupin's Pottermore bio. Here's your warning for mentions of sex and kinks, but nothing explicit. **

Necessary Prodding

Sirius spent a large proportion of his childhood and school years being cornered. As a result he'd got pretty good at cornering people himself, and Remus had always been one of his favourite corner-ees.

"Tonks is looking for you," he announced, shutting the kitchen door behind them both and leaning on it to trap Remus in.

Moony jumped, smacked his head on the cupboard he was looking into, muttered "Bugger!", and turned to face him.

"My cousin's after you and she's pretty pissed," Sirius re-iterated.

"Drunk pissed or angry pissed?" Lupin asked, scowling as he rubbed the back of his head.

"Angry. Well, maybe drunk as well, but mostly angry,"

"Right,"

"So I suppose you'll be planning on jumping back into that cupboard to hide. What went on between you two?"

"I don't know what you're taking about," said Remus shiftily. He'd always been a bad liar.

"I thought you two were _finally_ getting somewhere, but something happened that night at the Averys' and now you're avoiding her like dragon pox,"

"Nothing happened, Sirius,"

"You got going and shot your load too quick, is that it?"

Remus had never had time for crass humour and pulled a _do-you-have-to_ face at Sirius.

"No, that's _not_ it. There's nothing to tell," he said loftily.

"Then why are you determined not to see her?" Sirius persisted, "You still fancy her, don't you?"

Remus appeared to suddenly remember something important in the breadbin and busied himself looking in there. Sirius watched him for a few amused seconds, then continued, "She's an Auror, she can make herself look as hot as she- or more to the point, you- want, and she's thirteen years younger than you. Most men would wank themselves blind wanting a girl like that,"

Lupin put the lid back on the breadbin. "Don't talk about her like that,"

"Ooh, defending her honour?" Sirius smirked, pleased that he'd ruffled Moony's feathers.

"No, I...it isn't like that," he muttered.

"What is it like, then?" Sirius demanded, pinning Remus with a stare.

Lupin sighed. "It's like an old man doing right by a girl who will one day be relieved that she had a lucky escape,"

"Bollocks. She doesn't want a lucky escape, she wants _you,"_

Remus muttered something unintelligible.

"Go on, just tell me what you said," Sirius pleaded. He didn't suppose that Moony would tell him, but his old friend was fun to needle, and it was hardly as if Sirius had anything else to be doing.

Remus cocked an eyebrow. "Why d'you assume it was me who said it?"

"Oh, _she_ said something that spooked you? Yes she has got quite a gob on her doesn't she, a gob I imagine you've thought about positioned in a variety of places,"

"She's your _cousin,_ Padfoot," Remus shot back sniffily, "More like your niece, really. Andromeda would have your guts if she knew you talked about her like that,"

"I'm just voicing thoughts we all know you've had, so it's _your_ guts she'll be after," Sirius pointed out, "So what are you going to do about it? You can't dodge Tonks forever, especially not if I have anything to say about it,"

"For Merlin's sake, will you _let this go,"_

"No. You're my best friend and you're arse over broomstick for her. She's my cousin and she reckons you're the best thing since chocolate frogs. And whatever you've told yourself, turning her down wasn't doing right by her or by yourself either. So will it kill you to stop being such a flipping martyr for five minutes?"

"I'm not trying to be a martyr,"

"A masochist, then? Has all that chaining yourself up during the full moon given you a kink?"

"Sirius-"

"Is _that_ what you told Tonks at the Averys'? You asked her to whip the old wolf and she wasn't into it? Strange, I always suspected _she_ might have a few interesting predilections up her sleeves," Sirius taunted gleefully.

"That isn't what happened at the Averys' and if you tell her that I will lock you in a room with your mother's portrait for the next year,"

"Locking me up now too? My my, Moony,"

"Sometimes I wonder why I missed you all these years," Remus growled.

But all the talk of locks reminded Sirius of his own present state of house-arrest. "Still, I suppose it's not much different to how things are at the moment. I'm locked in the _house_ with her and Kreacher, even if not the same room,"

"I know. I know you're bored, I understand that, and you've done really well so far," said Lupin patiently, then added in a falsely optimistic tone, "It can't be more much longer, surely,"

"Don't give me hope, Remus," Sirius groaned, "None of us know how long this torture's going to go on for. Which I suppose you've thought about saying to Tonks,"

Moony's eye-roll was interrupted by a knock at the door. They looked at each other. Sirius' face split back into a grin. _Please, please let this be Tonks,_ he prayed.

"Hello?" asked a familiar female voice, "Can I come in?"

The voice wasn't Tonks'. But if she was the last person in the world Remus would want to be caught with discussing bondage, this must have been the second-to-last.

"Of course, Professor," beamed Sirius, leaping away from the door to let Minerva McGonagall through.

Remus cringed. "Hello, Professor,"

"Lupin, Black," greeted McGonagall curtly, "Is Podmore around? There's something urgent I need to pass on. I need to be back at Hogwarts in an hour,"

"He left about ten minutes ago," Lupin said quickly. Sirius assumed this was true, although he himself had no idea. He'd all but stopped caring who was coming and going from this damn house.

"Right. Thank you, Lupin. Good afternoon to you both," Professor McGonagall said, and turned to leave.

Sirius threw Moony an evil smile. Remus grimaced. Sirius waited until Professor McGonagall had opened the door and had half a foot in the hall before piping up, "Professor,"

"Black," answered Professor McGonagall, in the same trying-not-to-sound-exasperated-already tone all three of them were familiar with from school.

"Have you seen Tonks around? Remus and I were just discussing-" Sirius began to ask, but was cut off by the sudden feeling of an arm hooking around his neck and his body being dragged backwards.

"Nothing, Professor, nothing to worry about," Moony said pleasantly, shoving his hand over Sirius' mouth as he bundled him into the kitchen, "Good afternoon,"

Sirius flailed in Remus' grip, trying to twist out from under his arm. He stuck his tongue out and licked Moony's hand, but Lupin was unperturbed and kept a tight hold on him.

Professor McGonagall looked nonplussed but unsurprised, and in the second before she left Sirius was sure that he heard her mutter, "They never change".

* * *

 **Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed this silly chapter. Please review to let me know what you thought.**


	55. The Bads

**…alternatively titled _What It's Really Like: Part 2._**

 **WARNING for this chapter: M-rated. Contains angst, swearing, mental health problems and self-injury. This chapter explores trauma and domestic violence, including discussion of physical abuse of women and infants.**

 _Get the fuck away from me, don't touch me,_

 _I hate you, I hate you,_

 _I swear to God, I hate you-_

 _Oh my God, I love you._

 _How the fuck could you do this to me?_

 _How the fuck could you do this to me?_

\- Eminem, _Kim._

The Bads

Madeleine Andromeda Lupin. She was born in the second week of September, just as the first leaves started to turn golden. At not quite seven pounds, she was a small newborn, but strong and healthy. Her light brown hair hasn't changed colour since her birth, so the general consensus is that Madeleine isn't a Metamorphmagus. She doesn't seem to look much Veela either, and Vic isn't the disappointed by that. Sometimes looking the way Victoire does is more of a burden than a blessing. Madeleine is someone new and different, and Vic's pleased that her daughter will look like her own person.

It's coming up to Halloween now, and life is settling down after six weeks of hectic activity. Grand-mère and Grand-père have visited with Tatie Gabrielle and her family, and Vic's French cousins and second-cousins. The Delacours love a holiday, and after thirty years they've even stopped complaining about how grey and rainy England is. Plus, there's been a revolving door of Papa's family turning up with presents and meals and guidance (James and Lucy were particularly keen to come over when Vic's Veela relative were round, too). There's fewer people on Teddy's side, but some of his mum's friends have been over, as well as the various Lupin relatives who Andromeda hates because they only show up when they want to, not when they're needed. Andromeda herself pops in every couple of days, although she's been quieter than usual over the last few weeks. Vic suspects that becoming great-granny is a shock. Plus, Vic and Teddy have plenty of schoolfriends and colleagues who've wanted to meet the baby and supply their own gifts and tips. Vic know she's lucky to have so much support and interest, but having all those guests has been exhausting. She hadn't enjoyed sitting there breast-feeding in front of Grand-mère and Grand-père, and sometimes everybody's advice had been overwhelming. Vic's relieved that by now, the excitement of first-time-seeing-the-baby visits is over, at least until the Christmas holidays. Teddy went back to work at St Mungo's last week too. Vic's enjoyed the first week of being at home all day with Madeleine, although Auntie Angelina says that it gets boring after a fortnight or so. Victoire and Teddy agreed that Vic will have until Christmas off work, and then they'll work out what their long-term arrangement's going to be.

Plus, there's been the small matter of having grown a new human, pushed it into life, and now to suddenly be responsible for her for the next eleven years. The last few weeks have been so busy that part of Vic can't remember what life was like before Madeleine- but she's equally sure that life without Madeleine was yesterday, not six whole weeks ago. And sometimes Vic suspects that there was no life before Madeleine, or at least it that was all some sort of dream. Auntie Audrey says that when she looks back on it now, having a newborn seems like a dream. Vic's dreams, though, have never featured this many damp cloths and cracked nipples. Most surfaces in the house are now smeared with dribble, snot or some other bodily fluid. Vic's body still aches from the pregnancy and birth, and the pinching suckle of Madeleine's mouth during breast-feeding only adds to the soreness. Victoire's always liked her sleep, and it transpires that no preparation is enough for how little of it she's getting now the baby's here. Teddy does Madeleine's night-time nappy-changes and soothing and blanket-swaddling, but mostly their daughter wakes up to be fed, and for Vic that means at least half an hour of cuddle-wrestling with the baby and forcing herself to stay awake until Madeleine's finished. Vic's got two grandmothers and four aunties, and none of them ever told her how boring having a newborn can be.

One thing _all_ of them told her is how incredible becoming a parent is, and how a tiny, sleepless, stress-inducing human can seem the most glorious person in the world. Once Vic's managed to get the baby in a good position to feed, or when Teddy's holding Madeleine and chattering to her while the baby falls asleep, Vic is sure that she could watch their daughter forever. Just observe Madeleine's face and arms and toes, marvelling that this creature grew inside her and that she and Teddy made something so precious. And when the three of them cwtch up together on the sofa, Vic wonders how she ever believed that she knew what beauty was before this.

The odd thing now, though, is that Madeleine Andromeda Lupin is whining, and from what Victoire can hear, the noise is coming from the floor outside the bedroom. Vic sits up, pushes her flowing blonde hair away from her face and glances around. It's night, but it could be any time between nine in the evening and five AM ( recently, Vic's lost some sense of how actual hours and days work). Madeleine wakes up at least three times every night- this last time was because she had a dirty nappy, and Teddy took her to the bathroom to change it. He isn't back yet and the cot's still empty, but Vic's sure that the sound of Madeleine's mewling is coming from right outside the door.

"Teddy?" she calls, "Sweetheart?"

No answer. Vic's starting to consider the possibility that she's over-tired and imagining the sound, when there's a crash from downstairs. She jolts fully awake. Suddenly, Vic knows exactly what's going on. Her first thought is: _Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later_. But that doesn't make it easier. It never gets easier.

Her heart-rate picks up; she's always nervous and full of dread. Embarrassed, too, for what she's about to see, and guilty about what she knows she'll have to do. And _tired._ Merlin, she's knackered. She's been up feeding twice already- she barely has the energy to deal with this as well. But what's happening downstairs isn't opt-out. She doesn't have time to feel shattered or upset- not just because of Teddy- because of Madeleine now too. It'll be different this time, because of Madeleine, although Vic has no idea if that's for better or worse. She slips out of bed, pulls her dressing gown on (she's found that it's easier for breast-feeding to sleep naked), glances at the corkboard opposite the bed, picks up her wand and opens the bedroom door. And there's Madeleine, wriggling on the floor.

Vic drops to her knees. "Hi, _mamour_. What are you doing there?" she coos, "Are you cold? Let's get you back to bed,"

There's another bang from downstairs, and a strained grunt. Vic winces. _One minute,_ she promises in her head, _give me one minute to put the baby in her cot, and then I'll be there, okay sweetie? I'm coming._ She ducks back into the bedroom, jigs Madeleine up and down a couple of times in an attempt to calm her, then lies her back down in the cradle. Madeleine whines.

"Shush. Shush-shush-shush," Vic chunters, "Papa's a bit poorly downstairs, so will you be a good girl for me and be quiet? Shush-shush-shush-shush-shush,"

She knows she needs to get to Teddy as soon as possible, so she doesn't have time to properly settle Madeleine. A potentially-tantrumming six-week-old is the least of Victoire's problems right now. She lights her wand and hurries downstairs, hearing the ruckus getting louder as she descends. Vic isn't religious, although she often finds herself praying to no-one in particular at times like this: _Please don't let this one be a big one. Please don't let him injure himself. Please help me get through this._ Even after all this time, there's a niggling suggestion that she won't be able to cope. There's an extra lump of nerves this time, because this is the first time it's happened since Madeleine was born. It might even be the first since Vic got pregnant (Teddy keeps a diary of when they happen, which Vic now realises she should have looked over at some point over the last six weeks to prepare for this inevitability. But she'd been too busy with the baby to check). This is uncharted territory.

Noticing that the door from the kitchen to the living room is flung open, Vic allows herself a moment to compose herself. Then she steps into the room. The sideboard has been knocked over; its drawers are open so the pens and paper have split out onto the floor. The sofa's upended and there's two holes in the plaster of the wall. And in the middle of it all is Teddy, hair burning scarlet, kneeling on the floor as he rips one of the sofa cushions apart.

Vic needs a moment to take it all in. _Please give me strength I need to deal with this. Please help me. Please help him._

Then she says, "What the fuck are you doing?"

Teddy ignores her, shoves his fist into the cushion and yanks out a lump of stuffing, chucks it across the room and tears at the cushion with his teeth.

"What the hell is this?" Vic demands. It's a rhetorical question. Vic knows what it is. This is a Bad.

A line of saliva flicks out of Teddy's mouth as his teeth rip at the corduroy. He makes a screeching noise in his throat, tosses the cushion aside and starts clawing at the side of the upturned sofa. He has to keep his fingernails short for work, so the fabric doesn't tear. Frustratedly, Teddy rams his shoulder against the couch.

Between them, the people in Teddy's life have come up with a vague pattern for how to handle a Bad, or at least a bunch of ideas. Step One is to make a decision about how to play the situation. Since Teddy either hasn't noticed Vic or is ignoring her, she needs to get his attention first. Silently, Vic crosses in front of him to sit down on the armchair, which has managed to avoid being thrown over.

"I'm staying here," Vic says, trying to use a sing-songy voice. Being silly like that sometimes works, especially as it allows her to snap at him in a moment's time- throwing different tones at Teddy can also catch him off-guard. If she can get his attention she can make him distract him from fury and agony and destruction.

"Fuck off!" Teddy roars.

"Why did I find our baby left on the floor like a pile of washing?" Vic throws back. The Madeleine Card is a new one in her hand- she can use it as another curveball.

Teddy whips round to face Vic, and she can see that there's a scratch down the side of his face. She hopes that it's from the zip on the cushion and not because he's been clawing at his own face. One of the only parts of a Bad which anybody has managed to change, is that for the last few years Teddy hasn't intentionally damaged himself. However, he still ends up scratched and bruised from where he's been kicking furniture or hurling himself on the floor. Now he's looking at her, Vic can see that Teddy's eyes are red from crying. They are also full of hatred.

"What was I meant to do?" he demands. He groans as if injured, then repeats, "Just fuck off,"

 _I wish I could,_ Vic answers in her mind, _I wish I was anywhere apart from here, with you, doing this._ The good news is that she seems to have got his attention. One of Andromeda's tricks is to say something which will surprise or perplex Teddy- if he's thinking about being shocked then he isn't thinking about the fury burning inside his poor, broken heart.

"Are you drunk?" Vic asks, again trying to sound conversational.

"No!"

"Did you take a potion at work?"

He's a Healer at St Mungo's, so (if he didn't keep losing his cupboard keys) has access to all sorts of potions and medications which could, Vic guesses, get him into a state like this. Teddy would never dream of stealing from work, and Vic knows full well that this is a Bad and not a drug-addled frenzy. She hopes the accusation jars him, but it doesn't work.

"No!" Teddy repeats, leaping to his feet and smashing his fist into the wall. It's only plaster and his fist punches through. With a grunt, Teddy pulls his hand out and swings again. Victoire notes that the front of his pyjama bottoms are tented- that happens occasionally during a Bad, not because he's aroused but because his body's trying to do something with the blood pounding around inside.

Shocking him doesn't seem to be working, so Vic tries a different tack. She swishes her wand to make the chunks of plaster fly back into place to reform the wall. Teddy snarls in vexation and hurls another punch.

"Keep going, sweetie, I've got all night," Vic sighs, pretending to be bored.

"So can I!"

"Okay, good for you. That's not remotely stupid or pathetic,"

He isn't listening anymore, because he raves: "Hate them, hate them, hate them. Beyond fucking selfish, wanted an Order of fucking Merlin and thought that was more important than their son. He told her to stay with Granny, he _specifically_ told her to stay and look after me but she didn't, she knew Bellatrix Lestrange wanted her dead and she went anyway," he pauses for breath, catches sight of Vic, and explodes again, "Why are you here but she isn't? I hate you all!"

Ginny reckons it's good when he starts rambling like this, because it means there's a part of him that's remained rational enough to form sentences. Vic sees Ginny's point, but what Teddy says is always so _horrible._ Nothing in that rant was a surprise- Bads usually feature Teddy screaming that he hates his parents, which usually escalates into him screaming that he hates everybody.

The next knack is to say something to hurt him, to cause him enough anguish from the outside to take him out of the anguish he's feeling inside. She needs to be spiteful and pretend her heart isn't breaking for him. Vic's a good actress- you have to be when you're born this beautiful- which comes in useful during a Bad. Except now, when she tries to summon her cold, disdainful expression, it won't come. Vic's good at manipulating her face even without a mirror, and she knows that now the mask isn't sticking. She senses tears welling up in her eyes and realises that she can't stop them. Maman warned her about how having a new baby makes you vulnerable. Vic's been feeling more sensitive and raw the last few weeks, but now vulnerability has hit her like a bus. Panic sets in a second later: she can't deal with this. She's can't cope. Teddy's going to seriously injure himself because she can't look after him. Having a baby has left Vic unable to help him during a Bad, as well as making Bads worse for Te-

Teddy. Teddy, Vic realises abruptly, is also feeling more sensitive because of the baby, and she can prey on that. _She_ is the one who knows her own mind at the moment, so however wobbly she feels, she'll do better than Teddy. He's hardly been in a better position to jolt back into sense. Guilt prickles inside Vic when she takes advantage of him like this, but she's witnessed enough Bads to know that's a necessary concession. He told her he hated her, and Vic knows that hearing that said back to him will be like a slap in the face.

"I know you hate me," she murmurs and then, seeing him raise his fist to the wall again, adds, "You're going to hurt me,"

Teddy wheels round, fist clenched above his shoulder. "Shut up,"

Vic pitches her voice up to a higher octave as the tears spill harder down her face.

"You're going to take it out on me, aren't you?" she whispers, "You're going to beat me. I always knew you would one day,"

She can hardly believe that she's saying this to him. In all the time she's known Teddy, Vic has never been afraid of him. He'll never hurt her, ever. Teddy freezes, aghast, and inamongst guilt and disgust at herself that she's suggesting this to him, Vic feels a kick of victory. However momentarily, she's made him stop.

The Madeleine Card is at the top of the pile again. Vic's still crying- genuinely, no acting required- as she makes herself play it. She stands up from the armchair.

"Just stay away from Madeleine, alright? You can do what you want to me- kick me, knock me to the floor, hit me- just promise that you won't touch her,"

"Stop it, stop it, stop it!" Teddy squeals, voice cracking like a child's, as he backs away from her, "I put her on the floor so I wouldn't fucking snap her in half, okay? Is that what you want me to say? That I wanted to smash my daughter's head in? I hated her, I wanted to hurt her and hurt her. I wanna hurt you too, I told you to fuck off but you're still fucking here and it's taking everything I fucking have not to batter you!"

He throws himself onto the carpet and starts pounding it furiously. When he's on the floor it usually means that he's getting to the end, although Vic doesn't feel another kick of success at that. Teddy's words thud round her head: _It's taking everything I have not to batter you._ She knew that telling him he was going to beat her would upset him, because he wouldn't do it. _But he wants to,_ Vic thinks, reeling, _he told you he wants to, and he wants to attack the baby too._ Vic's always known that Bads are violent and vicious, but Teddy's never _told_ her that he wants to abuse her. She never knew he had that inside him. It's as shocking as if Teddy had just said he's furious enough to turn into a tortoise. She never knew he had that inside him. _But he wouldn't hurt you,_ Vic tells herself, _he'd never… he_ has _never._ It's not that he couldn't, but that he hasn't. He didn't hurt her or Madeleine because he _chose_ not to.

Victoire bats the tears from her eyes and takes a couple of steps towards where Teddy's flailing on the floor. "Ted, listen," she orders, surprised at how authoritative her voice sounds, "You're controlling it. You controlled it long enough to put her down. Yeah? You can control it enough not to hit me,"

Vic hates hat that sentence has just come out of her mouth. "So you can control it enough to make it let go of you," she promises him.

"I can't! They took all the control when they went away to die!" Teddy sobs, then yells, "I was younger than Maddy! I was a month old and left me to go and die!"

He writhes, and for a ridiculous moment it looks as if he's trying to hump the floor. Then he bangs his elbows down hard, seething in pain and wrath.

"You're in control," Vic promises in a low voice, "You own it, you've got the power over it. You can make it stop,"

"I was Maddy and I was Dad and I," he gasps, "I…I can't, I…."

Teddy's body spasms hard, making an unpleasant thud as his limbs and skull thump the floor. Then he suddenly goes limp, and flops onto the carpet. And Vic knows it's let him go.

Bads always end underwhelmingly like this. Well, not _end_ \- it isn't over yet. Vic allows herself to close her eyes as she counts to ten, then twenty, wiping the tears from her face. She can hear Teddy's breath coming fast and unsteady as he gulps in air. When she opens her eyes he hasn't moved. Good. He needs to be still for a while. They both do. Teddy's face is pressed into the carpet, hair fading from red to dark burgundy. His body's twisted round and his t-shirt's ridden up, so Vic can see the tattoo he's got above his waistband, between his hip and his bellybutton. It's a television set- TV, their initials. Teddy got it done a couple of years ago, and Vic had been partly amused, partly befuddled, and partly incredibly touched. She likes to spend extra time kissing it whenever she licks her way down Teddy's body. He sometimes says that she should get a map of Vermont tattooed- VT, to match.

Vic waits a few moments more, then creeps over to where Teddy is sprawled. She gets close, but not close enough to touch. It's best not to touch him until he asks, or shows that it's okay.

"Done?" she asks softly, kneeling beside him.

Teddy moans. "Yeah,"

"Do you want me to get someone?" Victoire whispers, "Do you want to me to get Ginny?"

"No,"

"Okay, then," says Vic, and she waits.

Teddy started calling them Bads after the official first Bad, when he was eight or nine and trashed the Potter's kitchen and threw up on Ginny in the garden. Teddy had almost certainly had Bads before then, but that was the first time he'd understood that the loss of control came out of being overwhelmed by fury and fear and guilt and grief and bewilderment, because his parents chose to leave him at his Granny's while they went away to die. Bads usually involved Teddy breaking objects or furniture, and often he'd end up unintentionally damaging himself too. He summed it up in the single word, "Bad" and the term, childish-sounding now, had stuck.

Bads were fairly common for a while after that first one- for about a year after he'd have a Bad every couple of months. His Granny, who had to deal with most of the Bads, tried to work out how to deal with them. Sometimes she made mistakes, like the time she locked Teddy in his bedroom during a Bad. He'd got bruises from ramming his body into the door to try and open it, and his untrained magic was strong enough to smash the windows, so he'd accidentally cut himself on broken glass. But sometimes Andromeda had good ideas- she worked out the trick of saying stuff which would shock him. She hadn't enjoyed doing that to a nine-year-old, but it helped to get through to him when he was too frenzied to listen.

Ginny, who had always been Teddy's special friend, helped too. She was the best at working out when a Bad was going to happen, and trying to talk Teddy down from it. Or, when he was Badding she'd fire questions at him, which is a trick Vic sometimes uses now. Harry found the Bads too difficult to watch.

Teddy knew he'd be a bit of a tourist attraction when he started Hogwarts, and he knew that anybody knowing about the Bads would make it worse. He didn't like talking or thinking about them. He tried to be kind and helpful, and ladies in shops or on the bus sometimes remarked on what a nice little chap he was. He worked hard at reading and writing and maths, he helped to look after all the little Potters and Weasleys when he visited, he tried to do as Granny told him. Teddy liked being a good boy. It was as if the child who screamed and swore and smashed was another little boy- not him. Usually only Ginny could persuade Teddy to talk about what Bads felt like. A few months before he started school, Granny insisted that Teddy's teachers had to know about the Bads so that he didn't get in trouble. She wrote to the headmistresses, and Harry wrote to Hagrid. In Teddy's first week, the gamekeeper, who Teddy knew a bit already, showed him the secluded parts of the Hogwarts grounds.

"An' when yeh think you're having one of yeh funny turns, yeh run down to me and we'll go to one of the spots were no-one can see, an' I'll look after yeh while yeh gets it out of yeh system," Hagrid promised.

As it happened, however, Teddy didn't have many Bads at school. They died down for the first couple of years- there was so much to get used to that Teddy didn't have time to get so enraged or outraged. Andromeda and Harry suspected that, as third year rolled around, the added pressure of new subjects, the increased importance of schoolwork, and the fact that Teddy was a teenager now, might mean Bads started happening more frequently again. It was difficult to pinpoint causes of a Bad- occasionally it was being around babies and parents, although most of the time Teddy loved babies, so it was impossible to know if a Bad was about to occur. Bads didn't seem to be connected to other times he got angry, either. Teddy could be cross about homework, or losing his hat, or the Ballycastle Bats losing at Quidditch, without it leading into a Bad. And a Bad never happened when he was talking to someone about his parents, or looking at photos, or going through the boxes of mementoes his Granny kept.

Harry and Andromeda were right that Bads got worse as Teddy got older. Hagrid let him tear up the grass and kick at the trees and hit him- a scrawny fifteen-year-old's shoes and fists didn't harm a half-giant. And when it was over Hagrid would take Teddy back to his hut for a cup of tea and a plate of rock-cakes.

Once he finished school, Teddy studied to be a Healer. The Bads continued every few months throughout his training, but nobody disagreed when Teddy moved out into a flat in West London. There was an unspoken agreement that he'd come home when a Bad happened- he could sense by then when they were about to start.

Vic found this all out retrospectively when she and Teddy first got serious. Their teenage years had featured plenty of stolen snogs and dalliances in empty classrooms, but it took until nearly a year after Vic had left Hogwarts for them both to admit that they both wanted more than a laugh and a quick shag with someone safe and familiar. Vic had just turned nineteen. A few months into their relationship, they'd been out to dinner and were walking back along the river, hand-in-hand. Teddy had gone quiet, which wasn't unusual, but Victoire could tell that he was tense. Eventually, he muttered that he had to talk to her. They kept walking and Teddy looked straight ahead as he explained that sometimes he got "attacks" of fury, and they were usually unpleasant and destructive.

"It's not often," he'd promised, "Every few months or so, and I don't harm people. I haven't harmed anybody since I was a kid,"

"Oh," Victoire had said, nonplussed.

"I reckon it's- well, it can be pretty scary, so if it ever happens when I'm with you, you need to get Granny or Ginny. Tell them it's a Bad and they'll understand,"

"A Bad?"

"That's what I call them. Dunno why," he muttered.

"Oh," Vic repeated, "Okay then,"

"I promise I'm not crazy," Teddy blurted, "I'm not sick. It's just something that happens to me,"

Teddy took a couple of steps ahead before realising that Vic had stopped walking. When he did, he turned to face her.

"Vic?" he asked softly, "Is that okay?"

Vic looked at him, shirt buttoned up to his collar, tiny tattoo of a clock just about visible on his neck, blue hair splaying out from under his flat cap. All she could think was that however horrible the thing Teddy had just told her about was, she wanted to go through it with him. She wanted to go through everything with him, and she knew she could get through any horrible situation if he was there too.

The words came out of Victoire's mouth before she could stop them: "I think I'm in love with you".

That was ten years ago now. Vic estimates she's witnessed about fifteen Bads, some of them alone with Teddy and sometimes with other people present. The latter are much easier to deal with, especially if that person has witnessed a Bad before. One person can keep talking to him and the other can do damage control.

Vic's lost her youthful naivety about going through a bad with Teddy and finding out what it's like. Now it's a question of getting Teddy out the other side and hoping he doesn't seriously injure himself or cause any permanent damage to the house. The reason Bads are difficult to witness and deal with is because they're so out-of-character. Andromeda is sharp and authoritative, and Victoire is confident and fiery. Teddy is calm- that's what makes him good at his job. He's measured and patient, placid and introspective. Get him talking about books or music and he can rabbit on for ages, but usually he's a reserved person. When he's annoyed he gets huffy or wanders away- he rarely snaps or raises his voice. Since they were kids he's been telling Vic to chill out, take a breather, "Put it into perspective, sweetie, it isn't a big deal". Being an only child means Teddy he doesn't really understand how arguing works, so when he and Vic have a serious disagreement he's rational and constructive, often infuriatingly so. Occasionally, when they're out together in Diagon Alley, somebody will howl at them, or barge past hissing, "Mr and Mrs Mongrel". Vic's always ready to kick off at that, but Teddy puts a hand on her wrist and tells her to shush because it's only some yobbo showing off or trying to get a rise out of them. Teddy insists that to retaliate will give the idiot who did it more satisfaction when they see that they've got the Veela bird get riled up. He's right, of course- Teddy's annoyingly right about lots of stuff. That's one of the reasons the wrongness of a Bad hurts so much. What hurts too is the knowledge that there will be no end point to this, no moment when he is cured. What Teddy feels cannot be cured.

Back on the living room floor, Teddy is gingerly pushing himself up. Vic moves a couple of paces away, giving him space as he eases himself into a kneeling and then a sitting position, then slumps against the wall.

"Headache," he murmurs, eyes closed.

"That's okay," promises Vic.

"Bads more bad now," he rasps.

"Let's not discuss that now. Come on, keep breathing,"

"C's of Maddy,"

"We'll talk about it later, now you just need to breathe," Vic tells him softly. His face is wet- partly tears, partly sweat, partly saliva. He's trembling all over, and he clasps his hands together between his knees. Their relationship is of equals, so Vic hates pitying for him. Teddy's never wanted pity about being orphaned (even if he had, Andromeda made sure that he didn't go looking for sympathy), and has rarely needed it either. For the most part he's good at handling loss, and has as much of a relationship as he can with his dead parents. He's written the most beautiful letters to them, and poems, and pages of his thoughts on love and grief. He draws how he feels, and he used to sometimes shut himself away with his guitar for a couple of hours to compose with a tune which, he'd explain, "Sort of reminds me of Dad". He's made thirty-one years of living with the loss, so it's a part of him now- in some ways being a war orphan is just another fact about his life. Teddy likes talking about his parents, although he's uncomfortable if he believes he's receiving too much pity for it. But the sight in front of Victoire now is achingly pitiable.

Eventually, Teddy breathes, "Drink,"

Andromeda is a stickler for manners, so Teddy is very polite, far more polite than any Wealsey in history has ever been. Except for after a Bad, when he mumbles single words for what he needs. Victoire conjures a glass of water for him and he downs it, then holds it out again for her to refill.

"I'm sorry, Vic," he pants, after the fourth glass.

"I know,"

His eyes open and stare into hers. "I didn't harm her," he promises.

"Of course you didn't,"

"I wouldn't hurt you, either. Did you mean it when you said I would?" he pleads.

"No. I know you'd never do that," she assures him, "I was trying to make you let go of it. Did you manage to let go of it? Or did it just end?""

Teddy stares at the ground. "Dunno,"

Then his eyes flick back up to hears and he repeats urgently, "Did you mean it when you said I'd hurt you? If you've ever thought, if I've made you scared about- of anything, then-"

He cuts himself off again, realising that he doesn't know what he'll do it he's ever made her fear for her safety.

"Never," Vic says in a low voice, "I've never felt that with you,"

He sighs, shuts his eyes again, and holds his hands out for her. Vic crawls towards him, puts one of her hands into Teddy's clammy one, and her other arm around his shoulder. Teddy leans into her, making a choking sound as if holding back tears.

"It's alright," Victoire whispers in his ear, "You can cry if you want to,"

"Don't want to,"

"Okay, then. I'm right here," she tells him.

Teddy groans again; a long, anguished sound. Then he repeats, "I'm sorry,"

He does this a lot after a Bad: _I'm sorry, I wish I wasn't like this, I didn't mean to upset you, I'm so sorry._ He never tells her he loves her afterwards, and Victoire reckons that he doesn't love her at these moments.

"I'm sorry too," Vic promises.

"Why?"

"I'm sorry you feel like this,"

He's still trembling. "Yeah,"

Another pregnant pause. Then he croaks, "I was changing her nappy. She was kicking her legs and waving. Shit, she's so cute,"

"Listen, you can explain later,"

"Now. I wanna tell you now," Teddy insists.

"I don't want you to wear yourself out," Vic hazards. She doesn't want him to relive what's just happened.

"I wanna tell you now,"

Vic moves her hand round to hold his head and make him look at her. "Fine. But take it slow, okay? Calm,"

Teddy nods solemnly. Then he explains: "She's perfect, Vic. Our baby is perfect. I was taking her back to bed and it thumped into my head- _my Dad wasn't here for this._ We talked about how I'd feel that way, didn't we?"

He's right- for months they've been talking about how having his own baby might affect him, and he's told her over the last few weeks when he's thinking about his parents.

"It felt like I was Dad. And, I –it's what I've never understood, isn't it, how they could leave me. How could they leave me?"

The Bads usually centre around this question, and questions like it: _How could they? Why did they? I don't understand, I don't understand. Harry says he_ told _Dad that parents should never leave their kids. I don't understand how they could choose the war over me. Why did they do it? How could they do that to me?_ Four years ago, after a busy few months at work for them both, Vic booked a hotel by the coast in Frinton for a dirty weekend. They'd been excited to get away from normal life and have a couple of days of enjoying each other, but on the Friday night Teddy had a Bad. He ended up trashing the hotel garden, screaming over and over, " _Mum, why? Mum, why?"._

Back on the floor, Teddy rubs his face with his sleeve. "I understand it even less now, 'cos if the sky was falling in I wouldn't leave Maddy here without me. I thought of that when I was holding her in the bathroom. No, I didn't think it, I knew it. It was in my head and I knew it. No matter what, I wouldn't leave her. Like Harry's mum- she stood in front of the cot, with her arms…"

Shakily, Teddy spreads his arms out to demonstrate. He often comes back to this, too- Harry's parents going into hiding with Harry, defending the house when Voldemort came, Harry's mum shielding her son. It's the opposite of what Teddy's parents did.

He bows his head and speaks to his toes, "And I thought it must have been my fault,"

Vic feels as if she has physically deflated. She holds him tighter. "Sweetheart, no. You know that isn't true. You know how much they loved you,"

In the photos of them together, Teddy's dad looks bowled over by pleased he is to have a child. He did drawings, too and he wrote a couple of pages about what it was like when Teddy was first born. And there's the letters they wrote the day they died, hastily scribbled messages of apology, or love, of attempted explanation. It isn't enough. During a Bad, Teddy's usually at two extremes: he either claims that his parents were terrible people who he despises for abandoning them, or he's convinced that they were right to leave because there was something wrong with him; he cannot be loved and so should not be loved.

"They just thought something else was more important," he spits, clearly not believing Vic's words. Eyes on the floor, Teddy mumbles, "Maddy's perfect and I wasn't perfect enough,"

He wipes his face on his arm again and continues, "And then I wasn't Dad, I was Maddy. And- we talked about this last week, didn't we- she's older now than I was when Mum and Dad died. She gets us, she gets her parents here and I didn't get mine. And I was so angry at her for that. I thought I was going to crack open. I wanted to hurt her, I wanted to do really bad stuff to her. I could feel the Bad coming and spreading in me and I put her down and I ran away and I let it happen,"

Teddy stares back down at the carpet. "If I could make myself not be like this, I would. I swear,"

"I know you would," Vic assures him.

"And now my own baby, our perfect baby, is ruined for me too because of them," he says bitterly.

"No, she isn't. She loves you, Teddy, and you kept her safe tonight," Vic promises.

"Yeah, kept her safe like they didn't. She loves me like they did, does she?" Teddy shoots back. Then his voice cracks again, "How many more people can they fuck up, Vic? They've fucked up me and they're fucking up everybody I love, too,"

He hugs his knees against his chest, shivering with sobs. Victoire can see a bruise already forming on his wrist. For the first couple of years Vic witnessed Bad, she insisted to Teddy afterwards that the Bads were nothing to be ashamed of. It wasn't his fault and he wasn't doing anything wrong. Now, Vic knows that she was an idiot. How can screaming and flailing like an animal not be shameful? He _should_ be ashamed of being enraged at their daughter for something she has no control over- it's that shame which stopped him attacking her. And of course he's ashamed of being a thirty-one-year-old man regressed to a childlike state, curled up and trembling and weeping. Vic is grateful for and touched by the fact that Teddy's never been ashamed of it in front of her.

She holds him while he cries, and she wipes her own tears away too. When Teddy's regained composure, Vic whispers, "Do you want to go back to bed?"

Teddy nods yes, so Vic disentangles herself from him, gets to her feet and holds a hand out. Teddy pulls himself up and holds the side of the upturned sofa to steady himself. Faltering, he follows her upstairs and into their bedroom, and instantly drops to his knees in front of Madeleine's cot.

"I'm sorry, Maddy," he whispers, "It's not your fault. I'm so sorry,"

"It's not your fault either," Vic reminds him.

Teddy doesn't respond.

"None of this is your fault, Ted," Vic repeats firmly.

He cranes his neck around to face her and says in a stony voice, "No. It's Dad's,"

He gets to his feet, staggers to the cabinet, opens the middle drawer, and takes out the bottle of Calm Balm. It takes Teddy a couple of attempts to unscrew the lid, and then he downs two capfuls. Gingerly, he climbs into bed and shuffles over to his side. Vic slips out of her dressing gown, hangs it on the back of the door and gets in beside him. Teddy takes her hand, and Vic notes that he's shaking less than before.

After a Bad, she likes ground him by talking about normal, boring topics. Vic allows a moment of silence, then asks, "Can you pick up a loaf of bread after work tomorrow?"

"Okay," Teddy agrees.

"And a pint of milk," Victoire adds.

"Do we need more biscuits?"

It turns out that when you have a baby you're in constant need of a supply of biscuits for guests.

"Probably," Vic yawns. The exhaustion of a Bad often sneaks up on her suddenly afterwards- plus she's been up already tonight feeding Madeleine. Thank Merlin she doesn't have work in the morning. Teddy does though, so he'll be knackered tomorrow night. She'll have to try to convince him to go to bed early, but that seems a far away in the future.

"Victoire?" says Teddy after a pause.

"Hmm?"

He rolls over in the darkness to face her.

"You were dead sexy when you took your dressing gown off just now,"

He's smiling at her with that adorable cheeky grin he wears whenever he says stuff like that. Vic is flooded with relief- he's coming back to himself.

"I mean it," Teddy insists, "Your tits look enormous,"

"Because I'm breast-feeding," Vic points out, because he knows that her nipples are leaky and chapped.

"You're stunning," he tells her seriously.

Although Vic's never tried to define herself by her beauty, accepting her sweaty, swollen post-baby body hasn't been easy. Perhaps one of the initial attractions of Teddy was that he'd known her long enough not to be rendered tongue-tied by the sight of her. Now, Vic knows now that he _means it_ when he tells her she's beautiful or gorgeous or sexy. And, more importantly, he's saying it to _his_ Vic, not the hot Veela girl. So she takes the compliment and grins back at him.

"Teddy Lupin, you old charmer,"

"Mmm," he says, smiling sleepily as he shuts his eyes.

The Calm Balm does its job, because soon Teddy's breathing becomes slow and rhythmic, and he's starfishing out- he always takes up too much room in bed. Vic waits another couple of minutes, then slips out from the covers and creeps across the room to the wall opposite the bed. On it is a corkboard plastered with photographs. They both enjoy taking pictures, and for years they've been pinning their favourites to the corkboard. Photos of them on holiday in the Maldives, by the lake on Teddy's Hogwarts graduation day, at the new Italian restaurant on Diagon Alley, crammed in a Muggle photo booth in the Trafford Centre, Christmas at the Burrow when they were tiny, rock-climbing in Tenerife. Tens of Vic-and-Teddys laughing and kissing and waving through the years. There's pictures of their family and friends, too, and most recently added is the magi-scan photo of Madeleine before she was born. At the top corners of the board are photos of their parents. There's one of Maman and Papa at Lou's coming-of-age party a couple of years ago. And there's one of Teddy's parents on their wedding day. They're sitting at a dining table in the hotel restaurant which Vic knows their wedding reception was held at. Teddy's dad is wearing a black suit which belonged to the infamous Sirius Black. Teddy's mum is wearing is wearing a 1950s-style wedding dress, which Vic knows that Grandma made for her. That's strange to imagine. Everybody knows that Teddy's parents weren't lovey-dovey- occasionally in the photo they hold hands, but mostly they just smile together and wave, and Teddy's mum flashes her wedding ring at the camera.

Vic looks up at the photograph. "Well," she whispers, "Did you see that?"

Teddy's parents beam back at her. His Dad's leaning forward over the table, hands clasped together like Teddy does when he's concentrating.

"It's not just him whose angry, okay? One day you'll have to answer to me, too," Vic hisses. Sometimes, Victoire hates Teddy's parents as much as Teddy does during a Bad. Sometimes she snarls at the photo that they didn't deserve to be parents, let alone have a son as special as Teddy.

"He thinks you didn't love him enough," Vic explains through gritted teeth, "He doesn't believe it all the time but he believed it tonight. I know you tried to explain- those notes you wrote before you left. I know you tried. But it's not enough- did you honestly ever believe it could be?"

Teddy and Vic and all the Weasley cousins have been told thousands of times why the war was worth it and why Teddy's parents were willing to die. But there's a difference between knowing something rationally, and feeling the way Teddy does about betrayal and fear, and the guilt and shame he carries with him.

Vic presses her thumb against Teddy's mum's face. "Did you see it was different this time? He's experiencing stuff differently now we've had Madeleine. I understand you now more than I did before. I know you'd tear the world apart for your baby. We all would, wouldn't we?"

Becoming a mother makes you abruptly, acutely aware of how every mother feels. Victoire's always seen her Grandma as the image of motherly love- cuddling, cooking, teaching the alphabet and wiping snotty noses and darning socks. It turns out that that is not the representation of maternal love. Motherly love is nothing like that. It is intense and violent. It seethes with the need to nurture and protect. It burns.

"That's what you thought you were doing for Teddy. You thought you were saving him, and I kind of get it. I know that if we'd lost they'd have come after him. But you didn't need to go," Vic pleads, "There were loads of people there already, they didn't need you too. You had a choice. Didn't you realise you had a choice?"

Teddy's mum was burning with this new love, too. Perhaps she thought attack was the best form of defence, and she believed she could protect Teddy better by charging into battle at Hogwarts. Vic knows that Teddy's mum was impatient like that, and she was an Auror so she probably thought that she was needed. What if she didn't want to wait until she was like the first Lily Potter, backed up against the cot with the monster towering over her baby? The monster for Teddy would have been Bellatrix Lestrange- did Teddy's mum try to get Bellatrix before Bellatrix could get Teddy? Vic can understand that. But she cannot imagine choosing to leave Madeleine here, or handing her over to Maman while Vic goes to fight. Not in the sense that Vic can't bear the thought of it- she literally cannot imagine herself doing it. If there was danger she would be with Madeleine.

Vic remembers Teddy yelling that he wanted to smash and snap Madeleine. She pushes her thumb harder onto his mum's face, and presses her fingers over his dad's, as if she's squashing ants.

"You made him want to hurt his baby," Vic seethes, "I will _never_ forgive you for that,"

Teddy's parents are the reason he Bads, and the reason he gets so mad, in both senses of the word. They caused him to want to harm his daughter, and it was on _Teddy_ to have the humanity not to, despite the fact that restraining himself caused him more pain. He was wrong when he said his parents had fucked up everyone he loves. But Victoire knows that together, in some way or another, she and Teddy will be dealing with this for the rest of his life.

"One day you'll have me to answer to," Vic repeats. She exhales, moves her hand away from the picture and tells Teddy's parents in a softer tone, "We love you. We miss you. Madeleine misses you too,"

A few times, Vic has held Madeleine up to this photograph so she can see her Nana and Grandad. They're going to keep talking about them and helping her have a relationship with them, like Andromeda did with Teddy.

Vic touches her index finger to Teddy's mum's face. "I wish you were here. I reckon I could do with a mother-in-law,"

Andromeda's a force of nature, but it isn't the same as the relationship Maman and Vic's Wealsey Aunties have with Grandma. They're not easy relationships all the time, but Vic could do with a mother-in-law to give tips about babies and bring a perspective which isn't Maman's. By all accounts Teddy's mum was a right laugh, and Vic would appreciate that. Their family is special, but it'll never be perfect because they'll always been missing two huge parts of it.

Vic glances over to the cot to check that Madeleine is sleeping. Then she walks over to the bed and climbs in. Teddy's asleep too, and Vic slips her hand back into his bony one. She shuts her eyes.

On the wall, Teddy's parents wave and laugh and smile, smile, smile.

* * *

 **Thank you for your time. I'd be very grateful for reviews.**


	56. Birthday Girl

Birthday Girl

Tonks was sitting on top of the fridge trying to balance a bowl of cereal on her stomach. She wasn't enjoying the bloating stage of pregnancy, so had decided to make the best of it by seeing how many useful objects her bump could carry. So far it was a pretty short list, although Remus suspected that was more to do with his wife's lack of co-ordination than the bump. The bowl was stationary for a moment, then wobbled and clattered onto the counter. Cereal splashed out, and the spoon dropped to the floor.

"Bollocks," Tonks growled under her breath, and as she glanced up she caught Remus' eye, "Wotcher. Morning,"

"Morning," he croaked, stomach twisting pleasurably as he observed her. She was beautiful. Brave. Funny. Silly. Sexy. There was so much _of_ her now, thickening thighs and swelling breasts and stomach which was getting bigger and rounder as their baby grew. Tonks got frustrated at it, but Remus didn't think he'd ever found her more attractive. He watched her for a second longer, then couldn't resist darting across the kitchen and catching her mouth with his. Remus rested one hand gently on the bump and kissed her hard. Her lips tasted of cereal and of home, and he couldn't get enough of her. He'd never get enough of her.

And then Dora was pushing him away, pressing down gently on Remus' shoulders and detaching her lips from his.

"Not right now," she mumbled, wiping her mouth on her sleeve.

"Sorry,"

Once, the rebuff would have left Remus feeling guilty and mortified, but now he just shrugged- she'd asked him to stop and he had.

"I have no idea why you're so into me all of a sudden," said Tonks, "You know most blokes go off their wives when they start getting huge,"

"Most blokes don't have wives like mine,"

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help but grin a little at his flattery.

"One day we'll be in sync, yeah?" she promised, "One day we'll be the most sexually compatible couple of all time,"

She'd gone off intimacy lately. Sometimes she didn't even want to be touched; she complained that her body felt too sensitive or too warm, which was daft because it was only January. Over the last few weeks Remus had become increasingly relieved that Tonks shared a bed with her mother instead of with him, partly so he didn't have to put up with her kicking the covers on and off all night, and partly because he couldn't bear the thought of being in bed next to her and not being able to touch or kiss her. The irony that they'd swapped places regarding wanting sex wasn't lost on either of them, and Remus was thankful that his wife had a sense of humour about it.

"You should have put that in your wedding vows," he said. He waved his wand to send the bowl and spoon into the sink, then reached into the cupboard to take out two mugs of tea. Being around together in the mornings, alone, was something to get used to too. They'd both found jobs for a few months in the Autumn but had agreed to resign at Christmas- Tonks didn't want anybody to know she was pregnant, while Remus's monthly absences were becoming suspicious, even though his Muggle employer was unlikely to work out that his illness co-incided with the full moon. Being at home meant they both had more time to deal with Order work, and more time to make lists of baby names, items to buy and plans to organise. Yesterday, the time they went to bed the living room carpet was half-covered with notes about the hierarchy of the giant clans, and half with pictures of cots cut out from magazines.

Remus made two cups of tea. As he was handing one to her, Tonks blurted, "It's Harry's mum's birthday today, isn't it?"

He stopped. "How on Earth do you know that?"

"Sirius told me,"

"And you remembered? You never remember dates,"

"I knew this one was important to you. You were friends,"

Remus' heart swelled. Oh, his dear sweet Dora. She was the loveliest, kindest girl, and she cared for him so much.

Tonks sipped her tea. "Tell me about her. Sirius told me she liked you before you liked any of the rest of them,"

Remus leaned against the kitchen counter beside her. "Process of elimination," he clarified, "Lily couldn't stand James and Sirius for ages, or at least she pretended she couldn't,"

"What do you mean, she couldn't stand them?" Dora demanded, "I know they were pricks, but I thought Harry's mum saw through that, like you did,"

"For me I'd call it overlooking, not seeing through. And it took me about an hour, whereas it took Lily seven years,"

"To overlook it?"

"No, for her it was seeing through. Seeing the real them underneath,"

"Underneath the prickishness?"

"Exactly. When we got to seventh year and the war got more serious, Lily saw what James was really like. He'd take a curse to the heart for a stranger without thinking about it,"

"Mad-Eye wouldn't approve of that," Tonks pointed out.

"Yes, he wasn't like you. Or me, or Sirius. You know how Sirius was- you were on his side or you could hang. James was the opposite. Everybody was on his side, apart from specific people who could hang," Remus explained, "He had instant loyalty. He'd do anything for anybody, no questions asked. Lily valued that,"

"Sounds like Harry," Tonks noted.

Of course it did. Harry's courage, virtue and steadfastness. Recklessness. Kindness. Hot-headedness- that was very Lily. His handwriting was like hers, and his eyes, and it was those little similarities which had both elated and stung Remus when he first met the boy.

"Yes," he acknowledged thoughtfully, "I see them in him all the time,"

Falling in love with Nymphadora Tonks had been exhausting and embarrassing and painful, and Merlin's beard it had been stressful. And every moment was worth it for times like this. Being able to speak about his friends and knowing that she wanted to hear, because she cared about him, and therefore about them and his memories of them. Knowing that he could say anything to her because she would always keep his words safe. Talking about James and Lily wouldn't bring them back, but it proved that they were here. The simple act of saying their names out loud and telling Dora what they were like, meant more to him than he could describe.

"But Lily always liked you?" Tonks prompted.

"We got on. She frequently told me off for being friends with them, but she was rarely cross with me. Perhaps she should have been," Remus pondered aloud. He wanted to kiss Tonks again, or at least reach over and run his fingers down her arm. He put his hands in his pockets.

"Did you ever fancy her?" she interrogated, "Or vice-versa?"

His wife always been convinced that he secretly had a colourful love life at school. Remus grinned in amused exasperation.

"Definitely not vice-versa. And I don't remember ever being particularly attracted to her, although she was very pretty,"

"He says, cagily," Tonks observed, then added, "She was a redhead, right? But not Weasley level ginger,"

"No. Auburn,"

There was a pause, while Tonks slurped her tea and kicked her heels against the fridge door, knocking the magnets onto the floor tiles.

Then she asked tentatively, "Remus?"

"Mmm?"

"D'you think she would have liked me?"

He looked at her. When their eyes met he saw that his wife's were earnest and tinged with concern. A thought juddered into his head: Lily's approval was important to her. Even if Remus' friends were all dead, their blessing meant something to his wife. _This_ was why telling her about them made the loss easier, because she talked about them like they were real and like they mattered.

Remus put his mug down and leant towards her. "She would have loved you,"

In some ways Lily and Dora were opposites, and in others they were almost exactly the same. They would have find each other _fascinating,_ he knew that. They would have been irritated and exasperated and perplexed and amused by one another.

Tonks beamed at him, and Remus knew that it was because _she knew_ that he wouldn't lie about things like that. Then he added, "Once she'd got over the shock of me marrying someone thirteen years younger,"

"Twelve," Tonks corrected. She'd turned twenty-five over Christmas, and Remus' birthday wasn't until the Spring.

"Alright, twelve _._ James would have thought it was hilarious, like Sirius did. And I think Lily would have been really pleased,"

"Good. 'Cos I'm really pleased too,"

Dora squeezed his elbow, then asked, "Would her and me gone on girly brunches or shoe-shopping together?"

"I think you had different taste in shoes," Remus deadpanned. The concept of Tonks and Lily existing at the same time was difficult to contemplate, like imagining humans and dinosaurs together. If the two of them met now, Remus guessed that on first impression Dora would have thought Lily was a square, and would have disapproved of her living off James' parents' money. Lily would have thought Tonks was cocky and attention-seeking, which Remus conceded wasn't entirely inaccurate. But once they'd got past that, Remus was sure that the pair of them would have been thick as thieves. If he thought hard enough, he could imagine them sharing Order stories, cackling hysterically together, taking the piss of him and James (and Sirius, who wasn't as difficult to mentally insert into this picture), and bickering about stupid subjects.

"Be funny, wouldn't it, you lot and then me, and then Harry," Dora persisted, "D'you reckon that would have been odd?"

"In what way?"

"You and all your mates, and then me. 'Cos I'm not much older than Harry, who's their _kid._ Theoretically we could end up on a triple date with you and me, Harry and Ginny, James and Lily. That'd be crazy, wouldn't it? And awkward,"

Often, Remus thought he loved his wife most when she was prattling like this. He loved watching her perhaps more than he loved listening to her; the way expressions danced across her face, and the gesticulations she made with her hands. And he loved too that what she was saying was baffling and rather bonkers.

He picked up his mug again and cocked an eyebrow at her. "Now whose being weird about the age thing?"

"Shut up," Tonks retorted, jabbing him with her foot, "Tell me more about Lily. What else would we have done if I hung out with her?"

Remus realised with another jolt that Dora was now four years older than Lily was when she died. When he first got to know her, back at Grimmauld Place a couple of years ago, he'd been acutely aware that Tonks was older than he was when he lost everything. Although by now it had been a while since he'd thought about that in relation to Lily. Lily seemed mature and efficient, not dissimilar to Hermione Granger. Dora, on the other hand, always seemed noticeably youthful and different to him, despite the fact that he no longer felt guilty about their age-gap.

"She wouldn't get enough of you being an Auror. That'd be terrific to her, she'd have wanted to know every detail," Remus told her. During the First War, all the Aurors were at least ten years older than Remus and his friends. Lily would have been thrilled to meet someone who'd started Auror training straight out of school- and a woman at that. Lily loved anything to do with women's achievements, she was always enthusing about the Suffragettes or Maria the Measly.

"What kind of music did she like?" Dora interrogated.

"You know I don't remember that sort of thing," Remus dismissed. He paused, then added as he thought of it, "She was very good at Potions,"

Tonks folded her arms smugly over the bump, and asked, "But did she get an O at NEWT from Snape?"

"Nobody has _ever_ got an O in Potions NEWT from Snape," Remus answered exaggeratedly, because it was Tonks' favourite topic. It wouldn't surprise him if she wanted to name their child O-In-NEWT-From-Snape Lupin.

"Actually, I think she sat next to him in Potions," he remembered.

"Maybe that explains why she was good," Tonks pointed out.

"No, she sat next to Mulciber in Potions, she must have sat next to Snape in transfiguration," Remus corrected, realising that the room he'd been picturing was Transfiguration, not Potions, "Sorry, this is boring,"

"Slightly," Dora admitted, then poked him with her toe again, "Tell me a story about Lily. Most stories you tell that she's in, she's just _there._ Tell me one where she's the heroine,"

Remus tried to remember one, but before he could, his wife cut in: "Hang on, did she know about you?"

"Did she know I'm a werewolf? Not until she and James were engaged. I made him swear not to tell unless they were a hundred per cent serious,"

When he was younger, Remus was happy to let a lot of things slide when it came to his friends- things he probably shouldn't have. But the one thing he'd never rest on was on keeping his secret safe.

"And what did she say?" Tonks pressed. Her tone was sharp, and it irked and touched Remus in equal measure that she was so ready to defend him from the reaction of a dead woman.

"I wasn't there when James told her, and I didn't ask him what she said," Remus shrugged, "I'd hazard a guess she didn't believe it at first, especially as it was coming from James. And then she'd have the inevitable horror,"

"But she got over it," said Tonks. It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes," Remus confirmed, "She got over it,"

"Have you ever talked to Harry about her?"

The mentioned of Harry's name made Remus' eyes drop to the floor in shame. Almost every day he thought of Harry and the argument they'd had. How Hermione had been almost crying. How Harry had said that he was ashamed of him. How Remus had _intentionally_ _hurt_ Harry with that jinx- a loss of control and a dreadful thing to do to his best friends' son, a boy who had already experienced so much betrayal. Remus re-lived the memory all the time, but he didn't like to speak about it, not even to Dora.

"A bit," he muttered.

"You should more, you know," Tonks prompted, "When he's home,"

Remus took a long gulp of tea. "Maybe,"

He could feel her eyes studying him, and he didn't look back.

"Would he even know that it's her birthday today?" Tonks asked softly. She pushed him like that on occasion, asking Remus questions which she knew he didn't want to answer. Sometimes she'd do it frustratedly, and other times she'd press him like this, with tenderness and care.

"I don't know," Remus murmured.

"He should,"

"Sirius may have told him. He talked to Sirius more about Lily and James, I believe,"

They were skating dangerously close to discussing the Pensieve Incident, which for Harry's sake Remus had vowed to himself never to mention to anybody.

"Why not to you?" Dora demanded, "Not even when you were his teacher?"

"I suppose we did then," Remus allowed, "But that was before he had Sirius. This is personal to Harry; it isn't our place to speculate on it,"

Sirius and Harry's relationship was separate and special. If Remus was more sentimental, he might have described it as sacred. The two of them were much more similar than Remus and Harry, and they both needed each other as a link to James. That wasn't always the healthiest connection, but it was _theirs,_ and Remus was never jealous of the bond Harry and Padfoot shared.

Tonks rolled her eyes but allowed the change of subject. "Okay, now tell me a story about her,"

There were many anecdotes in which Lily was the hero, he supposed. But he chose a silly one, the time in second-year when Jess Greengrass ate blancmange even though everyone knew she was allergic. Jess became a copywriter for wizarding medical journals eventually, but at twelve she was a was a rather dopey girl. It was the third time she'd ate something she shouldn't and made herself poorly, and to spare her Madam Pomfrey's ire, Lily made all the girls in their dormitory pretend to have a stomach bug. Even the Marauders joined in, and the deception proved so convincing that all of the second-year Gryffindors were permitted to have a day off lessons. The victory was ruined by James organising a pillow-fight for them all in the boys' dormitory, and Professor McGonagall having to be called and seeing instantly that none of them were ill.

"That's a good example of what they were both like," Remus concluded, smiling at their childish silliness, and their childish seriousness about the detention which followed.

He could feel Tonks studying him again. "Do you miss her?" she asked eventually.

"Yes. But I'm used to it. I miss them differently to how I miss Sirius, for instance,"

"I understand that,"

"It's been so long I don't expect them to be there," Remus elaborated, hoping that this didn't sound flippant.

He could still sense her eyes on him. "Would they have been excited about us having a baby?" Tonks asked.

"They'd have been thrilled. Lily might have been even more excited than Molly is,"

"Wow,"

"Less hysterical though," Remus assured her, "She wasn't practical with her hands like Molly and your mum are. She'd have kept all the books from when Harry was a baby though, she'd want to give us all of them and tell us every detail about what to expect,"

The Weasley twins were still giving him mock-impressed ribbing about getting his wife pregnant barely a fortnight after their wedding (in truth, Dora reckoned it happened before they were married, although Remus didn't want to go around telling people that, least of all Fred and George). Remus supposed James would have done the same. Lily would have chastised her husband and promised Remus that she was delighted for him. She would probably have squeezed his hands and told him seriously that he was going to be a terrific father. The thought of that made Remus blush. Lily would have also been checking up on him and Tonks to make sure that they were prepared.

"S'funny, isn't it, that Harry could be being an ordinary kid telling his Mum not to embarrass him with stuff like that, but instead he's disappeared on some mysterious mission," Dora sighed.

Remus nodded abstractly and didn't respond. One of the ways his wife was unlike him was that she loved "what if"s about the War. Remus didn't. James and Lily _did_ die, and Harry _had_ gone away, and the best they could do was try to help him and the Order as much as they could. Hoping that the situation would change, would not change the situation.

Neither of them said anything for almost a minute. They drank their tea in silence. Then Dora whispered, "Where d'you think he is, Remus?"

She asked that a lot, and every time he gave the same answer: "I don't know,"

"You'll see him again," Tonks promised, "You can tell him you're sorry. You know he'll forgive you,"

Remus felt himself tense. He didn't feel like discussing it, and he didn't like empty promises. There was a possibility that they might never see Harry Potter again. "Hmm,"

He knew that Dora could tell he was uneasy, because she let it go. After a pause, she announced, "I propose a toast,"

She pointed her wand at the kettle and it flew over to refill both their mugs, and then she did the same with the milk.

Tonks raised her mug. "To Lily. Remus misses you loads and I miss you too, so happy birthday,"

Remus observed her for a moment, then clinked his mug against hers. He thought of Lily. And he smiled.

"Happy birthday," he said.


	57. The Letters From Him

The Letters From Him

 _Dear Mum and Dad,_

 _I turned eleven last week. George and Ron got me some cool stuff from the joke shop. Granny got me new colouring pencils and some books that I wanted. Harry got me special crayons which you melt on the iron to make pictures. Uncle Bobby got me some games to play on the computer at his house. Aisling got me a guitar case which can go tiny so I can fit in it my trunk when I go to school, which is in September. I am nervous. I don't want people to stare at me. Granny says that that is not like Mum at all. Harry says that you get used to people staring but it's still annoying. Ginny said the staring is annoying if you're having a bad hair day. Then she said that she doesn't think I get bad hair days, but I do. Last week I tried to make my hair a new kind of purple, but it went white instead. I have turquoise hair a lot, but I think I am going to have brown hair at school because I don't want people to notice me. Granny says that that is not like Mum. Ginny says Hi by the way. I turned eleven last week and on Ginny's birthday she turned twenty-six, which is older than Mum ever was. I heard her telling Bill that. She told Bill it was weird and sad, but I don't think so, it's just an age and I don't think it is interesting. I won't show Ginny this letter because I don't want her to know that I heard her. I didn't show her last year's letter either because she said I didn't have to, even though she always helps me write to you. Next year I will be at school so maybe I won't write. I am nervous about starting school. I don't like getting lost and everyone says they always get lost at Hogwarts. Did you get lost, Dad?_

 _I am finished now. I miss you._

 _Love from Teddy._

He read it through again, like Granny had taught him to when writing letters, folded up the paper (it was impossible to fold a piece of paper over eight times) and put it in the envelope. Teddy wrote _MUM AND DAD_ on the front of the envelope. He didn't need to write an address. Then he stamped the back with the special TRL seal which the Macmillans bought him two Christmases ago. He liked looking at his initials in dripping green ink.

"All done?" asked Ginny, who'd been watching him from the sink where she'd been washing Lily's bottles.

"Yeah,"

"Well done. I'll call Poople then, shall I?" said Ginny. Poople was Harry and Ginny's owl (James and Al named her, mostly because it gives them an excuse to say "Poo").

She opened the kitchen window and whistled outside. After a few moments Poople swept in and landed on the kitchen counter. Teddy hopped off his chair and walked over, holding the envelope.

"I'll be at school for my next birthday," he told Ginny.

"I hadn't thought about that. You can do this on your own now, though," she answered.

"Hmm,"

"Or we could do it in the Easter holidays. Or you could stop, if you want. We could make this the last one,"

Teddy shrugged. "I don't mind,"

One of the things about having dead parents was that people liked to think that stuff that wasn't actually important was important, like Ginny being older than Mum was. Teddy didn't see how that mattered. As for the birthday letters to Mum and Dad, perhaps Teddy would do it next year or perhaps he wouldn't. Perhaps he'd have forgotten about it this year if Ginny hadn't mentioned it. It had been her idea in the first place, when Teddy was a toddler. She'd helped him write birthday letters to Mum and Dad before he learnt how to write properly, or if he got stuck about what to tell them.

Harry understood more about what it was like. He helped Teddy know when to say when people asked if he missed his parents (truthfully, the answer was that most of the time Teddy didn't miss Mum and Dad because he never knew them, and sometimes he missed them so much that he felt like he was being squashed. But Teddy didn't know how to say that when people asked, and he didn't want to either, so Harry helped him practise saying, "It's complicated. Do you want to play outside?" instead). Harry told Teddy that the way he felt about Mum and Dad would change, and that that was allowed. Teddy wasn't sure that the way he felt had changed yet. Harry also took Teddy to Neville's pub, and to the playground in Marlake Park, and to the cafe on Harrison Road. Teddy's favourite food there was fish and chips and with gravy. Harry thought chips with gravy was disgusting. He said Teddy liked it because it was a Northern thing.

Teddy liked going to have tea or stay over with Harry and Ginny because their house was noisy and busy, and James and Al and Lily were like his brothers and sister, almost. Lily was Teddy's favourite because she was a baby. He liked her lolling head and her chubby arms and how her body was small but her eyes were huge and goggly. He liked that she liked him. Teddy knew a lot of babies (almost all of them were Weasley babies) so he knew how to look after them and how they showed you that they liked you by smiling and waving and settling into your arms when you held them. But Teddy also liked that he lived with Granny, because Granny looked after him all the time. He liked that he and Granny were a team. It was very busy at Harry and Ginny and James and Al and Lily's house. Being home with Granny was quieter, and Teddy didn't have to share her or any of the presents he got for his birthday.

It'd all be different when Teddy went to school. None of his family would be there. Teddy knew a few people who went to Hogwarts, but they were all older than him. He wouldn't know anybody in his year. They wouldn't know him either and they would all stare at him. He was worried that they'd see that sometimes his hair changed colour in the night, and they'd think he was weird. He was cared that someone would find out about Dad being a werewolf, and then they'd be afraid of Teddy or they'd think he was disgusting. Hermione changed some laws, but it took more than a law to stop people thinking things and saying things. Teddy knew this from experience.

"You okay, baby?" said Ginny. Teddy leant into her side. She ran her hand all through Teddy's hair from the back of his neck up to his fringe, "What's up?"

"Nervous about school," he mumbled.

Ginny wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "How come?"

Teddy shook his head and pushed his face into her shirt. He didn't want to say it all out loud. Maybe he'd tell her later. Maybe he'd tell Harry or Granny. Vic understood some stuff, but Vic was too young for this.

"Everybody's nervous for school, Ted. Everyone you meet will be nervous," Ginny promised.

 _Nobody_ he met would be like him.

"And you're so brave and so clever," she said, snaking her hand round to tip his chin up so he was looking at her, "And funny. And handsome. And you can write to any of us, any time, you know that,"

"I know,"

"Don't tell her I said this, but if eleven-year-old Hermione can make friends, you can do it _easily,"_

Teddy giggled. Ron told funny stories about them himself and everyone when they were younger. When he did impressions of Hermione he made her sound really annoying. Ron said not to tell Hermione that he did impressions, otherwise she'd get cross with him. Ron and Hermione got cross with each other quite a lot, mostly as a joke but sometimes for real. Ginny said they liked it that way. Harry said he'd never understood it.

"Shall we send this letter?" Ginny whispered.

"Okay,"

Ginny waved her wand to make the scissors and string flew over to Teddy. He cut a length of string and Ginny held Poople still while Teddy tied the letter to the owl's leg.

"Granny said she's going to buy me an owl in the Summer holidays," Teddy announced.

"Cool. What type will you get?"

"Scops owl. They've got funny ears," Teddy smiled. Scops owls were cute and fat little owls. Teddy didn't want a big, imposing snowy or tawny.

"You've got funny ears," said Ginny, fondling one of them. Teddy screwed his face up and turned his ear into a long, pointy pixie ear. He didn't morph very often at the Potters', because he didn't like to use it as a party trick, and he didn't like it when James demanded that he do different colours or noses or faces. But it was fine in front of just Ginny.

Poople fidgeted and made a trilling noise in her throat.

"Alright, alright, hold on," Ginny hushed her.

"She hasn't sent a letter to Mum and Dad before," Teddy pointed out. Harry and Ginny had only got Poople a few months ago.

"This is a special letter," Ginny told the owl, "So give us a moment,"

Carefully, she handed the owl to Teddy. He leant as far as he can towards the window. He couldn't think of anything to say, so he didn't say anything. Teddy made a throwing motion with his arms and let Poople go. She flapped out across the garden. Ginny put her hand on Teddy's shoulder and together they watched as the owl, holding his letter, flew out over the garden fence, up, and into the sky.


	58. 180

**Set during _Order of the Phoenix_. This is not a love triangle. It's a triangle about love.**

180

She can't help but feel left out. When Mad-Eye told her that Sirius was innocent and in London, the first thing Tonks thought was that she'd get to hear his laugh again. It's not a pleasant laugh- it's rough and scornful-sounding, but she loved it as a child. Part of her- a part as treacherous as she believed Sirius to have been- loved his laugh even when he went to prison. As an eight-year-old it had been difficult to learn that even when you were supposed to hate someone, _wanted_ to hate them, love would fight through. Love could not be turned off like a tap. The things which Tonks had tried not to love about him anymore- his laugh and his motorbike, his way of winding Mum up and the way he smelt of cigarette smoke- haunted her for fourteen years.

And then suddenly she was allowed to love him again. Suddenly, the last fourteen years were a lie. He was innocent after all and she could see him again soon. (If Mad-Eye had known her less well than he does, Tonks supposes that springing the Sirius-is-innocent bombshell on her in the same conversation he asked her to join the Order could have been manipulative. But the grumpy old bastard knew she'd say yes to the Order, and he wouldn't need to bribe her). Seeing him again had been insane and incredible and very, very weird. And then Remus Lupin had turned up. Which, Tonks supposes, seems to have become a theme around here.

He's a decent bloke, she'll give him that. For a werewolf, he's an _inexplicably_ decent bloke. The werewolf thing still freaks her out, and Tonks gets annoyed at how pointedly everybody ignores the fact that he's a monster _. Come on, people,_ she wants to shout, _Address the elephant in the room! We're all obviously thinking it!_ Perhaps Kingsley and everyone reckon that by not mentioning it, they won't have to think about it. But Tonks finds it difficult _not_ to think about. He turns into a dangerous creature every few weeks for goodness sake.

Anyway, if Tonks manages to compartmentalise the werewolf thing, Remus seems alright. He's friendly and he isn't all "During the last War we did this, bla bla bla" like some of the others are. He always says hello to everybody and he often asks her about work, even though he probably doesn't actually care. He's polite like that (Mum would love him, Tonks notes). And all this miraculous niceness gives Tonks more guilt about how much she resents him and the hold he has over Sirius. They're together most of the time, and if they aren't then Sirius will be glancing around for him, or saying, "Remus says this", "Lupin told me that", "Moony says it's a good idea". Moony and Padfoot are their nicknames for each other, invented at school when they slept in neighbouring beds. They don't share a room now but Remus stays over at Grimmauld almost every night. He occasionally mentions that he has a cottage to himself, though he spends most of his time here, partly for Order purposes and mostly for Sirius purposes. "Moony" keeps Sirius company when he's down, playing endless games of chess, reminiscing over past adventures, or winding each other up. They both come alive when they're together, and Tonks feels sad that Sirius never looks that alive when he's with her. When she was little, his presence was thrilling and unpredictable. He could light up a room- not with a smile but with a smirk, a toss of his long dark hair or a snarky whisper when Mum wasn't listening. Tonks was always in a strop about something as a kid, but the promise of Sirius coming round later (although more often than not he'd turn up unannounced) made whatever she was cross about disappear. Now he's bitter and traumatised and Tonks feels useless that she can't make him happy like he used to make her. It's "Moony" who makes him happy. Their nicknames and their reminisces speak of a special club, a shorthand, a shared history, an understanding, which Tonks is left out of. She knows it sounds selfish and petty, but she loved Sirius and she wanted him back- she even wants this twisted, surly, house-arrested Sirius. She wants to help him, but because Remus is here she's superfluous to requirements.

After the first Order meeting Tonks went to, Sirius mentioned flippantly that he and Remus were lovers for a time. His exact wording was probably more crass than that, actually (one things Tonks tried and failed to forget about him when he was in prison, was that Mum always told him off for swearing). She isn't sure if they're back together now- it would certainly explain why Remus stays over here so often. If they _are_ shagging she is definitely their third wheel, and the fact that neither of them have confirmed it makes her feel even more left out.

Remus is also the only person Sirius deigns to listen to. If "Moony" tells him to shut up or stop moaning or "For goodness sake, keep your voice down," Sirius grumbles but eventually obeys. But Remus is also Sirius partner-in-crime; they joke together and snigger over the same jokes, and they get pissed together on the Black's expensive wine. She's noticed that Remus is a very, very good friend. And Tonks supposes that she isn't Sirius' friend- for all his pride at her being an Auror, he still probably sees her as a child. He knew Remus longer before he went to prison, too. Tonks has no claim on Sirius just because they're related. When your mother eloped with your dad to escape one of the most ancient and prestigious pure-blood families, you grow up convinced of the _un_ importance of blood. If blood's so important, how come Dad's got a better job than half the pure-blood kids he went to school with? If blood's so important, why hasn't Mum seen her blood sisters since 1971? But Tonks finds that she feels like that her blood relationship to Sirius means that she's owed a connection with him. It's only fair, isn't it, considering that she hasn't got any other family on Mum's side? Sirius hasn't got any family either, although Tonks supposes that he counts Remus as a brother. It's a question of what's thickest, isn't it? Blood or water. She always though she knew the answer, but Sirius' reappearance has made her question that. Perhaps one day, Tonks reckons, as she as she stands in the kitchen listening to Sirius and "Moony" talking in the drawing room next-door, she could barge in there, sit down next to them and force herself into their friendship. Perhaps it isn't just blood or water, she thinks, noticing the sound of liquid being poured into a goblet. Perhaps its blood, water or wine.

* * *

He can't help but feel left out. After twelve years, Remus' best friend was returned to him, only for Remus to turn into a werewolf and Sirius to be forced on the run again barely half an hour later. Remus didn't see Padfoot for another year after that. It took a boy to die and Voldemort to return for Remus to be properly reunited with Padfoot. Only now, they're reunited at dusty, dreary Grimmauld Place, the setting for Sirius' miserable childhood. That, and the fact that twelve years in Azkaban have made Remus' old friend embittered and unstable, means that it's a surly, mopey Padfoot whom Remus lives with nowadays. That sets Remus on edge, too. When Padfoot was in prison, sometimes Remus would dream of seeing him again, and it would be a joyful, celebratory reunion. When he woke up, guilt would creep down his spine and he's be frustrated at himself for dreaming about the traitor like that. Now it's turned out that Sirius was innocent all along, and Remus can be with him again, their reunion is more tense and dissatisfying than he imagined. But sometimes, in the evening after a bottle of wine or two, the past fourteen years of betrayal and heartache fade away. They're just two young friends again, the Marauders putting the world to rights. They'd got smashed together the first night Remus stayed at Grimmauld. Padfoot brought out a shelf-ful of wine from the cellar- he and Remus started pouring it into glasses but ended up drinking from the bottle. They talked, and laughed, and Padfoot had got slightly teary, and when Remus staggered off to bed at some point after three AM, Sirius held him tight and pressed a wet kiss to his cheek. For a split-second Remus thought that Sirius was going to kiss him on the lips. He didn't know if he wanted him to, and he didn't know how he'd react. But Sirius simply whispered, "Goodnight," and let him go.

Since then they've had a few drunken nights like that, which is cathartic for them both. In recent weeks, though, the piss-ups have ground to a halt. Nymphadora Tonks has ousted Remus from his position as Sirius confidante. She'd been around for a while beforehand, and Sirius was thrilled to have her back in his life. Tonks' Mum is Andy Black, Padfoot's cousin who ran away to marry a Muggle-born. She was Sirius' hero when they were teenagers, and he's beside himself that Andy ("No-one calls her that anymore," Tonks told them) has a daughter, whose grown up to become an Auror and join the Order of the Phoenix. The last time they met, Sirius has explained, Remus about a thousand times, Tonks was an eight-year-old.

"And now look!" he told Remus excitedly, flinging his arm around Tonks' shoulders, "She's the youngest person to get into Auror training in _seven years,"_

Remus wasn't sure what he was meant to say to that _: Congratulations, random pink-haired woman. I, a random old man whose opinions you have no need to care about, agree that you have done very well_. He'd mumbled incoherently and half-smiled, half-grimaced at Tonks. She grinned back, and Remus couldn't tell if she was in on his confusion, unaware of it, or mocking him. It was awkward, but that was all, and Remus didn't mind it, didn't mind her, until a few weeks ago she invited herself in when he and Padfoot were drinking together. Drunk Sirius was even more all over her than usual, one arm a hooked round her waist and the other tilting her chin up while he told her over and over how much he'd missed her, how much he loved her. Remus had sat awkwardly in the corner, feeling as if he was intruding on something private. But it was _her_ who'd intruded. Over the preceding few weeks they'd made the usual cracks about the Black family, but that night the floodgates opened for Sirius. He told her stories about his childhood, his parents and his brother that he'd never told Remus. He rambled self-indulgently about how difficult it was to be a Black- the reputation, the wariness people had around them.

Abruptly, he realised, "I suppose that was worse for you when I went to Azkaban. Merlin's beard, how did you live with that?"

"It wasn't your fault," said Tonks consolingly, stroking the back of his hand.

"Of course it wasn't," Padfoot snarled. Then his hands were on either side of her face and his thumbs were brushing tears of her cheeks, tears which weren't there, "I'm so sorry".

Since then, she's been Sirius' number one confidante and his new favourite person to stay up with drinking through his parents' wine cellar with. Sometimes Remus stays with them, though sometimes he can't face them being so dramatically Black together, so he usually goes up to his bedroom at Grimmauld (it used to be Sirius' mother's dressing room and nobody is sure why it was left with a bed in it), or home to his cottage. He tries to spend one night a week back there to keep an eye on the place. Over the Summer, Padfoot would get mopey and clingy when Remus left him at Grimmauld. Now he's got Tonks, however, he isn't as fussed. The circumstances of Remus' life mean that he's always had a lot to be envious of, though he's always tried to suppress that jealousy- this is his lot in life so he should make the best of it, and there are people with far harder lives than he has. Remus has lived his life with this philosophy. But he can't help but be jealous about Sirius and Tonks. The strange part is that he finds that, actually, none of it is making him dislike Tonks as a person. She makes him laugh, and underneath all her hairstyles and brashness, she's kind and diligent and interesting. Remus likes hearing what she has to say about the world. But if he thinks too hard on how much he likes her, then he realises that he's blaming Sirius for replacing him with Tonks. That isn't fair. None of this is Sirius' fault. He needs Remus to be empathetic and adaptable, not petty and jealous. Besides, Remus isn't a teenager anymore- he should be able to overlook Sirius' fickleness, and he should definitely understand that there's more important things in life than staying on Sirius Black's good side. Besides, when they were the Marauders, there was JamesandSirius, and Remus was their spare part. And now it's Sirius and Tonks, and Remus is still their spare part. His own position hasn't changed, so he's got nothing to complain about.

But, Remus sighs, kneading his forehead with his knuckles, absolutely everything else in the world has changed, and will keep changing. And that makes it all so much more complicated.

* * *

He can't help but feel left out. Sirius is _intentionally_ leaving _himself_ out, although he still feels strangely lonely when he watches the two of them together. Enough to make him consider if his attempt to set Moony and Nymphadora up with each other is such a good idea after all. But Sirius is so _bored_ trapped here at Grimmauld that he may as well try to create _some_ drama. And moreover, he reckons that they might be perfect for each other. Remus needs someone fun- he always did, and even more so now he's got old and grey and professorial. He needs someone to challenge him and jolt him out of all the ways and beliefs he gets himself stuck in. Remus has needed that since he was eleven years old. As for Nymphadora, well, Sirius is sure that she'd be bored to death dating someone whose her own age and has the same interests and ideas and expectations. He's tried to wheedle confirmation of this out of her a few times and though she never states "My exes are all too tedious for me," that's what Sirius has chosen to infer. It's how he felt at twenty-one, anyway. She likes to believe that she is outrageous, and so she'll be outraged herself by Remus and how different he is to everybody else she's ever gone out with. Remus will drive her up the wall, which is a good thing because it's usually Tonks who drives people up the wall.

They're falling for each other and they know it, too. Azkaban robbed Sirius of many things, but not his understanding of attraction. Fourteen years, and he still hasn't forgotten how women would eye him when they were interested in him. The repeated quick glances, the slight smirk, the indecision about where to place hands (in pockets, on the tabletop, folded, clasped, in pockets again). Nymphadora is fidgety at the best of times so she can barely sit still in front of Remus these days. She drops stuff or bumps into doors or knocks crockery over more in front of Moony, too. She gets flustered, and then Remus tries to help, and Nymphadora blushes further, and Sirius laughs himself into stitches, and his cousin glares daggers.

It's been much _more_ than fourteen years, but Sirius still remembers the way Remus used to look at him- baffled and slightly stunned that he was experiencing attraction. Grinning to himself then wiping the grin away quickly. Concentrating in turn at everybody else in the conversation in a deliberate effort not to look like he was focussing on one person. For a few months when they were teenagers, Sirius was on the receiving end of all that adorable awkwardness. The fact that Moony's affections have been transferred to Nymphadora is therefore bizarre. It's also hilarious- something else prison couldn't take away from Sirius is his pleasure in winding people up. And they are both _so_ easy to wind up. When Moony's eyes, performing their careful journey around everybody in the room, meet Sirius', Sirius cocks an eyebrow. Remus knows him well enough to infer what the gesture means, and he frowns back. If Sirius is alone with Tonks, he'll sometimes glance at the door and say, "Oh, hello, Remus," and enjoy the way his cousin startles, and the way she growls at him when she realises that Moony isn't there.

Taunting both of them is fun, but Remus is too much of a wimp to make the first move, and Nymphadora goes uncharacteristically embarrassed whenever Sirius tries to persuade her to ask Moony out. She insists that she isn't sure if Remus likes her back, and she won't be persuaded when Sirius insists that obviously he does. So, Sirius is trying to negotiate a circumstance in which one of them might finally crack and admit that they fancy the other. He knows that the two of them hang out on the back porch sometimes, and of course they go out on Order work together- but what they really need is a night _in_ , preferably involving alcohol. Alcohol is the solution to most complications of the heart. Contrary to what Molly Weasley insists, Sirius doesn't have a drinking problem- whenever he gets drunk, it's _with_ somebody. Kingsley on occasion, or Arthur Weasley when Molly lets him out from under her thumb. Mostly though, it's Remus. Well, it was at first, and then Tonks turned up and Sirius realised that she _understood,_ at least a little, about their family, and that she wasn't a child anymore and she could stay up with him and get smashed and he could tell her stuff that people who didn't share their poisonous Black blood wouldn't understand. He could tell her he was sorry, too, for disappearing. Remus would sometimes be there then, and he'd sulk in the corner, or Tonks would look bored when Sirius and Moony started reminiscing about school. That was what gave Sirius the idea to start sidling away when the three of them are in the drawing room with a bottle of wine. He'll say that Buckbeak needs feeding, or that he's fetching a book or heirloom that he found upstairs and wants to show them. He'll leave the room, walk halfway upstairs, then sneak back down to listen at the keyhole. Usually at first there's an uncomfortable silence, and then Nymphadora will ask Remus something, and Moony will reply, and they'll start chatting. Often, they make each other laugh, and frequently one of them will say something, to which the other will reply, "Really?" or, "I've never thought about it like that before," or, "How on Earth do you know that?". They're fascinated by each other, and everybody knows that "fascinated" is synonym of "turned on". Sirius smirks to himself as he listens to them chat- and then a slither of loneliness creeps up his spine. He's feels left out, though he's the one whose let himself out. He question whether he actually wants them to get together after all. What if there comes a time when it's always like this- the two of them together and him on the outside?

He leaves them for five or ten minutes, then lets himself back in and asks innocently what they've been talking about. One of them, probably Moony, will give him a suspicious look, but neither of them have let on if they've guessed what he's up to. Sometimes Sirius questions what he's up to, too. As a child and a young man, his anger was his confidence. Twelve years in prison, conviction kept him sane. He longed for freedom, but his escape has led to another imprisonment. The only thing which makes this prison more bearable than Azkaban is the people who are here with him, and the opportunity to annoy them, amuse them and, perhaps, manipulate them into asking each other out. Which, Sirius reckons, means that a few moments of unease and loneliness are definitely worth it.


	59. A Christmas Chapter

**Surprisingly, I've been organised enough to write something seasonally appropriate. Also surprisingly for me, this chapter is fluffy, and it's a song fic. Did you know there are three different versions of this song? The writer had to change it twice because first Judy Garland and then Frank Sinatra said it was too depressing. The version I've used here is the middle version, sung by Garland in _Meet Me in Saint Louis._**

A Christmas Chapter

 _Have yourself a merry little Christmas,_

 _Let your heart be light,_

 _Next year all our troubles will be out of sight_

It's the evening of Christmas Day. They've spent the day at the Burrow- Mum, too, and Tonks is pretty sure that even Fred and George found her intimidating. It's easy to forget, when it's your own mother, just how scary she can seem. The Weasleys have spent the last year rolling their eyes at Molly's dislike to Fleur, although now they've met Mum they might realise that trying to get her to accept Remus has been fifty thousand times more difficult than getting Mrs Weasley to put up with Fleur. Bill and Fleur had been noticeable absent from today's Christmas dinner. Ginny told Tonks that they wanted to have their first married Christmas alone.

"Bet they're spending all day sucking each other's faces off," she'd said, rolling her eyes, "Their mouths'll probably be too busy to even eat,"

"French cooking, though," Tonks pointed out.

"Yeah, but it's Christmas. You're not supposed to eat croquettes or croissants or whatever on Christmas Day,"

"Fair point,"

"I'm glad you two are here instead," Ginny said.

"Aw, thanks," Tonks said, ruffling Ginny's hair. The noise and cosiness of the Burrow was brilliant, but honestly she felt slightly envious of Bill and Fleur having a quiet, private Christmas alone together, especially since this was going to be the last Christmas she and Remus would have before the baby arrived. It would also be the _first_ Christmas they'd have together at all. That's a strange thought, because it seems like they've known each other for years, and that their relationship and all the drama that's come with it has been going on for ages. A fortnight ago Remus had been asking what Tonks wanted for her birthday, and he'd mumbled that hadn't bought her a present before. Tonks assured him that that was fine- he didn't need to buy her anything, ever- but it was a strange thought.

Perhaps Mum sensed that they wanted some space tonight, too, because when the three of them got back home an hour ago, she announced that she was going upstairs for a lie down. Once Mum left the room, Remus had sat down on the settee and Tonks snuggled up to him. Since she wasn't drinking, Remus said that he wouldn't either today, but Tonks and the Weasley twins had persuaded him into it. As a result, he's tipsy now, which means he's even more adorable than usual. He's been cute and smiling and affectionate all day. Now, she's leaning against his shoulder while he strokes her face and hair with one hand and rubs the bump with the other. His fingers have been getting slower and Tonks suspects he might be falling asleep, which would be lovely, because she misses falling asleep with him.

Just as she's thinking that though, Remus sits up abruptly and says, "Dance with me,"

He doesn't give her time to answer, instead jumping to his feet and holding his hand out. Tonks wasn't expecting that, but she grins back and lets him pull her up. He flicks his wand at the record player, which still has the record he was playing last night in it. It's a Muggle carol service- Oxford or Canterbury or somewhere, little boys with squeaky voices singing hymns at a pace of two beats per minute. Tonks reckons it's dreary, but her husband loves it. She suspects he'd have liked to have been in a church choir, although that was never going to happen and obviously Remus would never admit that he'd wanted to. He puts one arm around her waist, pulling her as close as he can (the bump makes that not as close as she'd like), holds the other hand in his against his chest, and sways her to the beat of the hymn. Tonks is hesitant to say so out loud, but she likes that dancing lets him lead her and hold her and be bigger than her. She likes him holding her like this. Often, because she likes protecting him and taking care of him and because he can be _such_ a girl, Tonks feels kind of blokey with him. Which usually she doesn't mind, but it's nice to let him play the proper male role once in a while.

Remus is good at dancing. It's one of the many random and unexpected skills he has- drawing, DIY, using computers, speaking Spanish. She likes how he's always surprising her with knowledge or expertise like that. Occasionally, he'll look proud or even slightly cocky when he fixes the leak in the shower or says, " _parto en el agua"_. Few things make Tonks happier than when her husband looks pleased with himself. When he genuinely looks as if he likes himself. She might be giving herself undue credit, but Tonks is sure she sees that look more often on his face these days.

Outwardly, Remus is a placid person, so sometimes it can be hard to tell if he's placid on the inside. Tonks has been working on how to read that in him, and he's been trying to get better at telling her when he's anxious or agitated. Considering that she's the one growing a human being inside her, and that he's, well, _older_ (Tonks cannot help rolling her eyes at the thought of this word) _,_ perhaps it's strange that he's the one changing. In Tonks' opinion, change is good. That's kind of inevitable when you can change your own appearance, though she knows that in Remus' life, change has usually been bad news. It's no wonder then that he's hesitant about change, and needs time to get used to it. And he's been proved right, since a lot of the changes in their world the last few months have been catastrophic ones. Since the Death Eater coup in August there's been a seismic shift in what counts as normal and safe- what counts as life, really. But right now, with her husband holding her, and the gentle pressure of the growing baby on her stomach, the smell of the Christmas tree and the mulled wine Remus has been drinking, and the fairy lights twinkling around them, Tonks wishes they could stay like this, her and him together, and never, ever change.

 _Have yourself a merry little Christmas,_

 _Make the yuletide gay,_

 _Next year all our troubles will be miles away_

His heart is fluttering so hard that he's sure Tonks must be able to feel it. He'd holding her and they dance slowly beside the Christmas tree. She's got her eyes shut as she rubs her face against his cheek (Remus hasn't worn facial hair for years, but she'd remarked a couple of times that she thought he'd look handsome with it, so he's trialling growing some stubble over Christmas. It's itchy and he can already tell that he'll have to shave it off when it gets wispy enough to feel like fur on his face. But for the moment it feels alright, and the light friction of his wife's face on it makes his stomach growl pleasurably). It's been a wearying day (Christmas always is, Remus reckons, though he knows Tonks disagrees) and he can tell that now she is tired and relaxed. He hopes he's been getting better at relaxing lately too, though right now he feels only utter thrill.

There were perhaps eight or nine days in total when Remus enjoyed being a newlywed, interspersed by days of despair, and abruptly cut short by the pregnancy news, Mad-Eye's death and the fall of the Ministry. What followed was a fortnight of arguing, and then the biggest mistake he's ever made in his life. By some miracle his wife forgave him. Dora tells him that he should stop claiming that he doesn't deserve her, but how can he not think that _now,_ after she let him back when he tried to abandon her and the baby? Everything he knew she was already- kind, patient, understanding, selfless- proved to be a thousand times truer over those weeks in August after he returned. She took him back into her home and listened when he wanted to talk. She helped him understand where all his panic had come from, and how they could get through it, together. Sometimes he supposes he's getting better, and when he isn't, Tonks is there gripping his hand and rubbing his shoulders. Remus is happier to let her do that these days. He might have just about got his head around the idea that whatever their marriage and child will bring down on them, she wants it brought down on her. She wants him. Tonks been telling him that for years though it's only now that Remus is starting to believe her. 'Starting' being the operative word.

Acknowledging all this makes him feel warm and content. Remus hasn't had the headspace to consider it deeply much lately. When he has, it's been in statement form- "She's amazing", "She's so special", "I am the most fortunate man on this planet". Given all that's been happening, everyone has been pre-occupied concentrating on Order work. To resist the Ministry coup and Hogwarts upheavals would be a suicide mission, so the Order's purpose is now protecting the information they have and gathering new intel. Remus' stomach flips so often at hearing a new piece of information, or news of an attack, a supposed sighting of Harry or Ted, that it's stopped flipping around his wife. His heart beats harder so much out of fear these days that it doesn't beat harder out of love much more. Or perhaps he's being dramatic. Perhaps this would have happened anyway and is a normal part of relationships. Given the upheaval of what went on between him and his now-wife before, perhaps it's expected that settling down to domesticity is a jolt back to reality. Living together means he sees her and talks to Tonks every day, so the thrill of their relationship the first time around has faded.

Today, though, it's been different. Remus has felt butterflies every time she's looked at him, and his mind keeps wandering away to thoughts about why she's so incredible and how accommodating she's been lately. At three o'clock this morning Tonks crept into his bedroom, elbowed him wake and she whispered, "Merry Christmas, husband," over and over in his ear until he woke up properly, then announced she had an early present for him.

"Early as in the middle of the night?" Remus had yawned. Her birthday had been on Monday, and he didn't have enough money to buy her a birthday present, a Christmas present, _and_ a bonus "early" Christmas present.

She beamed at him, which made his stomach flip and his skin break out in goosebumps where she was touching him. Those joyful physical reactions to her have continued all day, making him embarrassed and elated in equal measure. (The early Christmas present was wrapped in garish wrapping paper, and Dora shoved the parcel at him, drumming her fingers over the baby bump in anticipation. When Remus opened the parcel, he found it contained pair of boxers with _World's Sexiest Husband_ printed on, and a pair of socks emblazoned with _World's Best Daddy._

"Will you wear them tomorrow?" Tonks had asked, glowing. She was so enthusiastic and earnest and full of love for him, that Remus couldn't helped laughing.

"Of course I will. Happy Christmas,"

"Happy Christmas, darling,"

She'd kissed him, and climbed under the covers to cuddle for a while, before sighing that she should get back to her mother's bedroom before Andromeda woke up and wondered where she'd got to. When Tonks had kissed him goodbye and left, Remus burst out laughing again, wondering how on Earth he had met somebody like her). At the Burrow, Remus knew that he was sounding more amused than anybody else when she made jokes or did something daft. Usually he doesn't want to touch her in front of other people, but today he _had_ wanted to, and he needed to keep reminding himself that he shouldn't. And then he balked at how not touching his wife in public had gone from _don't_ to _can't_ to _shouldn't._

There's no-one watching now, so her wraps his arm further round Tonks' waist and pulls her closer, so that the bump is pressing against his stomach. He likes that, and he likes touching her waist and hips to explore the weight she's put on there. It proves that this child exists. It's growing inside her and will be making its appearance in the Spring- it's actually going to happen, a real baby, _their_ baby. His baby. His blood, with all the horror which that brings. Remus is learning to live with the idea that Tonks wants him and whatever a future will bring with him, although he's still wracked with guilt and panic about what he might have done to the child. Tonks had a choice. The child did not. Dora keeps insisting that it won't be a werewolf- lycanthropic reproduction has become her specialist subject these last few months, and she keeps showing Remus questionably-sourced articles regarding werewolf offspring. He supposes that this obsessive research and hyperfocus must have been what she was like at school. She's always telling him anecdotes from when she was at Hogwarts, but she rarely mentions actual schoolwork or exams. Considering how much she loves (loved) her job, it used to surprise Remus that Tonks doesn't talk about the effort, dedication and stress it took her to get into Auror training, let alone pass. She was accepted straight from school, the youngest person in seven years, and nobody else has been accepted since. Despite how much she likes showing off, she doesn't bring that up often. Perhaps she reckons that talking about how she had to work for it make her look uncool or nerdy, too much like Hermione Granger (there is, however, a Hermione-ish-ness in the way Tonks' research is a desperation to be proved right). The Blacks, Remus knows well, are always able to balance intelligence with seeming cool. He has never known how to manage that, and it's a relief that at his age it's no longer important.

Remus reads the werewolf baby articles she finds, though only so as not to hurt her feelings. He doesn't trust what any of Tonks' research claims. He cannot escape the belief that he has inflicted the worst of himself onto his baby. He doesn't want to deny it, either. Why deny the inevitable? Why lie to himself? It'll only cause him more pain when the baby _is_ born like him.

Remus feels dread about his child being born a werewolf, but not about his child being born. He's learning to separate the two ideas in his head and, werewolf aside, the can't wait to be a parent. To be one of those men who push the pram and change nappies and all the other stuff Mr Weasley has explained to him in cheerful detail. At Christmas dinner this afternoon, Arthur tried to describe the Muggle bottle-cleaning contraption he obtained from a questionable source when the twins were babies. Remus hadn't understood what Mr Weasley was talking about, and Arthur enthusiastically promised to get the equipment out from the cellar next times Remus comes over. Over the last few months, Molly and Arthur have been full of ideas and advice and promises of donated baby clothes. Molly has shown Remus a batch of babygrows and knitted cardigans, and it was strange and lovely to imagine them being worn by the child he has created with Tonks. Remus hopes it's more like her than him.

Right now, the fingers on Tonks' left hand are stroking his neck, skimming from his collar to his hair. It makes him imagine the tininess and the strength of baby fingers, and how his baby is growing fingers right now, inside his wife, in the bump which is pressing against his stomach. The whole thing is exciting and bizarre, like Tonks waking him up in the middle of the night to give him an early Christmas present (he kept his promise, and is wearing the socks and boxers now). Remus has to bite his lip to stop himself bursting into laughter again.

 _Once again as in olden days,_

 _Happy golden days of yore._

 _Faithful friends who are dear to us,_

 _Will be near to us once more._

Andromeda pretended to be tired. A few years ago, her daughter would have scoffed, "What? You don't get _tired,_ Mum," but this year Nymphadora was too wrapped up in her husband to notice. Andromeda went up to her bedroom and lay down on her bed- the one she used to share with her husband, and now shares with her daughter. Andromeda is still there now, ruminating about how different this Christmas has been from every other Christmas Day she's ever known. She remembers childhood Christmases playing with Bella and Cissy, arguing about decorating the Christmas tree, and wriggling on Grandmama Rosier's knee while Grandpapa read them stories. As they got older, Christmases became more fraught. Firstly as Cissy grew beautiful and Bella grew capable, and Andy found herself the unremarkable one. She'd wake up early on Christmas morning to do her make-up, in the hope that her grandparents would mention how _she_ looked, instead of cooing over Cissy's long eyelashes and dainty bone structure. Andy would rehearse with insights and one-liners in advance, though her wisecracks never went down as well as Bella's did. She'd often find herself starting a game of Exploding Snap with Sirius- at least she'd always be _his_ favourite. And as she grew older still, Andy began to feel more uneasy about her family's beliefs. The adult conversations around the Christmas dinner table weren't boring anymore, they were disconcerting- all the more so when Bellatrix joined in the discussion with thrill and relish in her tone. As the years went on, Exploding Snap with Sirius became more than a distraction- it became an escape. And then Ted happened, and being away from him at Christmas was an ache, though not as painful as having to listen to the beliefs Andromeda's family ha about people like Ted, and how the Blacks stated them as fact. There came a point when that was _too_ painful, and Exploding Snap was not enough of an escape. Andromeda knew that she would have to escape for real.

Christmas with Ted's family was different to Christmas with Mother and Father and Andy's sisters. It was rowdier and more disorganised. During Christmas Dinner, Ted's father would keep dashing into the kitchen to check on the next course. Ted's sister would pop upstairs to change her outfit. The telephone would ring and his mother go to would answer it. His brother would sneak off for cigarettes. In the Black family, everybody sat down to Christmas dinner and did not stand up again until the house-elves had cleared away the pudding, so the constant wanderings in and out of the Tonks family was jarring and seemed rude. When Nymphadora was small, the noise and attention and the copious amounts of sweets consumed would make her over-excited, which would eventually lead to her having a strop. Andromeda's parents would have sent her to her room for throwing a tantrum on Christmas Day, though Ted's family would roll their eyes at Nymphadora and go back to bickering about which film to watch on their television. It took Andromeda more years than she'd like to admit, to get used to the freedom Christmas with Ted's family. When Nymphadora was older, her cousins (who has been born and grown into small children by that time) would be fascinated by her morphing abilities and her stories of boarding school, toads and potions lessons. Andromeda had never spoken to Muggle children before and was equally interested in her nieces and nephews' experiences of primary school. Ted once took her to see his nephew's nativity play, and they always visited the Christmas fete, where his sister had the job of running the tombola. Sometimes they went to a church service, even though Ted wasn't religious and Andromeda barely understood what any of it meant.

Today, the Burrow had been as chaotic as Christmas was with Ted's family. Molly fussing and bossing as usual, Arthur blundering in a way which was both sweet and irritating, and those infernal twins cracking jokes and playing tricks. Remus had taught all the children at Hogwarts, and Nymphadora was very friendly with Molly's only daughter, so despite the Weasley's best efforts, Andromeda had felt out-of-place. She'd been an extra part, like she had as a teenager when standing between Bella and Cissy. Once they'd got home tonight, Andromeda had felt that even more, and knew that she'd rather be alone upstairs than with Nymphadora and Remus. They are not the type of couple whom it is excruciating to be around (everybody at the Burrow had grumbled that Molly's oldest son and his wife _were_ such a couple, and all the Weasleys were relieved that they hadn't attended), although seeing one's daughter so infatuated cannot help but be an uncomfortable experience. In some ways, Andromeda's memories of falling for Ted seem as if they could have been last year, though the fact that it's her _daughter_ now flushed and beaming with love shows bluntly that it is decades since Andromeda was first fell in love. She'll become a grandmother in the new year. Andromeda stares up at the ceiling and says the statement again to herself: _I am going to be a grandmother. I will have a grandchild._ How in Merlin's name has she got this _old_? How has so much of her life gone by? When Andromeda was a child Grandmama Rosier seemed _ancient._

Moreover, there's revulsion that the man whom Andromeda's daughter is in love with, married to and expecting a child with, is a werewolf. He is a danger to Andromeda's family and he always will be. Andromeda is still guilty that she let this happen. She should have seen more and asked more. When Nymphadora was withdrawn and unhappy all those months, Andromeda accepted the explanation that she was upset about Sirius dying. Andromeda was so sad about it herself that she projected the sadness onto her daughter. Now, she could kick herself for not pushing further. Or maybe she could have acted even earlier- she was never hugely interested in who Nymphadora was going out with, so she could have taken a leaf out of Molly Weasley's book and stuck her nose in more. Nymphadora was usually irritated at Andromeda for something, so being cross at her for interfering in her love life would just be another item on a long list. Andromeda could have coped with her daughter calling her an interfering old fool if it would have kept her safe and happy and away from men who turned into monsters every month.

Ted was more sympathetic towards Remus. Perhaps he saw some of himself in him, which Andromeda would like to scoff is ridiculous. Being a Muggle-born is not the same as being a werewolf. But Ted's the sympathetic type. Andromeda's always liked that about him. In his absence, therefore, she's been attempting to give Remus the occasional chance. Chance to do what, Andromeda can't say.

Nymphadora had told Ted about Remus months before she told Andromeda. Andromeda only found out about it all after they'd got _engaged._ Perhaps Nymphadora was pregnant by then, too. Andromeda feels betrayed by that, though there was so much to process when her daughter announced that she was marrying a werewolf, that she hadn't had been particularly angry at Ted. She's grateful for that now. She's missed her husband more than ever these last few weeks. Will he know it's Christmas day today? He probably won't have eaten a Christmas Dinner- will he have eaten at all? Is he lying awake now, thinking of her? Where?

Andromeda does not know the answers.

She rolls off the bed, deciding to make herself a cup of tea (probably laced, she admits to herself). It's hardly late- not even nine o'clock yet. Andromeda heads downstairs and, noticing that the living room door is still open, she finds herself unable not to look in. Nymphadora has her back to the door, with Remus' arms around her back, holding her close. For a few weeks, Andromeda's first thought upon seeing them hold each other like this would be to snap at Remus to get his filthy werewolf claws off her daughter. However, she finds herself acknowledging that this is a moment of tenderness and togetherness. Their faces are pressed beside one another's. Music is playing in the background- that Muggle carol record Remus played for them last night. Andromeda can't help but sense a prickle of jealousy again.

And then Remus opens his eyes. Andromeda doesn't know if he heard her there, or if this is merely coincidence. His gaze locks onto hers and for a moment, they stare at each other. Then, Remus looks away, whispers a couple of words into Nymphadora's ear and presses a kiss to the side of her face. Andromeda has hardly ever seen him kiss her before. For a moment she's perplexed, and for another she suspects he's taunting her, but then Remus prises Nymphadora out of his arms, moves around her and steps towards Andromeda. He holds his hand out to her. Andromeda looks back into his eyes and he cocks his head in a _well, aren't you?_ gesture, as if puzzled by her hesitancy. His puzzlement is even more puzzling, and Andromeda finds herself taking his hand. Months ago, she let Remus touch her face, but she has never felt his long, bony fingers against hers. They are nothing like a werewolf's claws. Remus pulls her over towards the tree and puts his hand on her waist, and Andromeda realises that he is dancing with her. Her first instinct is to shrink away from him, but when he lifts her hand up against his chest and sways her gently, she finds she doesn't want to. Being here feels…nice. Just nice. That's embarrassing to admit, and Andromeda daren't glance round to look at her daughter, whose face will surely be a mixture of questioning and pleased. Much like Andromeda's own, she supposes.

Remus doesn't hold Andromeda any closer, and the distance is as comforting as the contact. Andromeda sighs, more in fatigue than in happiness. Christmas is a time for family, and she has lost two of those. She left her first family- Mother, Father, Bella and Cissy- for the second family of Ted and Nymphadora, although now Ted has gone too. Her husband is on the run and her daughter has grown up and chosen an unpredictable, frightening life which no parent would wish for their child. But, Andromeda thinks, this is still a family. Nymphadora moved back home after Ted left, so Andromeda has seen more of her daughter this Autumn than she has since before Nymphadora went to school. They have always been more similar than either would like to admit, and Andromeda can almost understand why her daughter has made the choices she has. In some ways, therefore, that's a part of her family which has come back to her. Then there's Andromeda's son-in-law, whom she cannot forgive yet, and cannot trust, but who seems to be trying, and growing, and perhaps does love Nymphadora after all. And then there's the baby, arriving in the Spring, making Andromeda a grandmother. She does not like babies. She does not like children. She barely likes this child's father. But she will love the child. She loves it already, despite everything. This new family of three and a half are together for now, and Andromeda's infuriating, complicated son-in-law is dancing with her by the Christmas tree. And, Andromeda acknowledges, isn't that what Christmas is all about?

 _Someday soon we all will be together,_

 _If the fates allow._

 _Until then, we'll have to muddle through somehow,_

 _So have yourself a merry little Christmas now._

* * *

 **Thank you for reading. I hope you liked this chapter.** **Thank you so much for all you views, favourites and reviews over this year. It's humbling that so many people read my work, especially those who leave feedback. I am grateful for all of you. Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.**


	60. If: Summer

**This will be a four-parter. I hope you enjoy it, because the future subjective tense is a pain in the backside to write!**

 _"Winning was easy, young man- governing's harder,"_

\- Cabinet Battle #1, _Hamilton._

If: Summer

June

If they had lived, they'd have found the first weeks and months of the new world difficult. Tonks would have insisted that she needed to go back to the Ministry to help Kingsley, who was now Minister of Magic. Lupin would have thought that it was too early for her to go back to work after having a baby, especially as the situation at the Ministry was hectic and stressful. Due to their experience and intel over the past three years, the Order of the Phoenix would have been vital in the restructuring of the wizarding world, so their roles in Ministry were therefore onerous. But Lupin would have known that his wife wouldn't have listened to his suggestions that she stay home with Teddy for a few more weeks, so, wishing to avoid an argument he knew he wouldn't win, he wouldn't have brought it up. His own experience of the Order's role in both wizarding wars would have been essential, and he'd have been required to assist with investigations into Greyback's werewolf pack. The Ministry didn't anticipate that any trials would take place until the new year, and Lupin would have been expected to serve as prosecution witness in almost all of them. He wouldn't have been looking forward to that.

On top of their work at the Ministry, the Order of the Phoenix would have had private meetings back at the Burrow, where everybody would share stories about what had happened over the past year. Lupin would have been concerned about how Harry, Hermione and Ron were re-adjusting back into the world, on top of dealing with their grief for Fred, Colin Creevey, and the others who had died. Given how much there was to do, Tonks and Lupin would have reached a compromise in which every day one of them would go to the Ministry, and the other would look after Teddy. The next day they would swap. That would have been the routine every day for the first few weeks of the new world. There was so much to do that neither of them would take a Sunday off. For the first month of Teddy's life they'd both been at home all day, living in a bubble where they didn't have to do anything apart from look after and marvel at their son. It would have been a shock to the system to go from that to working long hours at the Ministry and only seeing each other and the baby in the mornings and evenings, and when Teddy woke up in the night (after Teddy was born, Lupin and Andromeda would have swapped beds; Andromeda would now be in Tonks' childhood bedroom, and Lupin would have moved into the double-bedroom with Tonks. That meant that they'd be able to cuddle as they fell asleep, and both be close to Teddy during the night). Andromeda and Molly would both have offered to babysit so they could go back to their flat for a night or two, but all their paperwork would have been at Andromeda's house, so Lupin was worried that spreading all their documents across two homes would have led to a file getting lost. Plus, he'd have been concerned that going home would have made them lose momentum, and it was momentum which would have carried him through the first few weeks. He'd have told himself that it was alright he wasn't seeing so much of Tonks, because at least he was spending every other day with Teddy, and Teddy was the most important thing now. Besides, he would have reminded himself, they had _time_ now. He didn't need to cram in hours with his wife, because they were going to have forever together now. No matter how many times Lupin told himself that, he wouldn't have truly believed it.

At thirty-three minutes past six on the morning of the fifteenth of June, he'd have been hurrying downstairs in his pyjamas, with Teddy strapped to his chest in a sling. The baby would have been crying.

"Shh, alright? Give me ten seconds and then I'll have some breakfast for you," Lupin would have promised, pushing open the kitchen door. His wife would have been sitting at the table, already dressed in ripped jeans and a black t-shirt, with her Auror robes hanging off the chair behind her. She'd be shovelling cereal into her mouth with a spoon, and would have already spilt coffee over the kitchen table.

"Wotcher," she'd have mumbled through a mouthful of cornflakes.

"Morning,"

"Wotcher, Teddy. You hungry for breakfast? Today's a bottle day, sorry about that, mate,"

Officially, you were only supposed to start bottle-feeding babies at six weeks, although whoever came up with that rule obviously hadn't ever just won a major wizarding war and been needed to return to work in the government. On days when Lupin looked after him at home, the baby drank bottled breast milk.

Lupin would have opened the fridge door with his wand and summoned a bottle into his hand. He'd have pressed the nozzle against Teddy's mouth, and after a few moments of coaxing, the baby would have opened his lips to drink.

"There we are. That's better, isn't it?" Lupin would have said, wiping a tear off Teddy's face. Teddy could be fussy about feeding, and didn't always start suckling this calmly.

"God, you're cute with him," Tonks would have murmured, watching. Lupin would have looked up and winked at her, and she'd have giggled. She'd have thought dreamily that he was the most amazing father, and their son had made him so delighted, and as well as being cute he looked dead sexy in rumpled pyjamas with uncombed hair.

"Do you think if I drink coffee continuously all day, I'll be awake enough tonight for the three of us to do something tonight?" she'd have suggested.

Lupin would have yawned. "Maybe,"

"By 'something' I mean I'll stay awake watching you be the world's most adorable dad," she'd have continued, "I know it sounds bad to say, but I kind of miss when the war was happening and it was just you and me and him,"

"That's not a bad thing to say. I miss that. I miss being with him every day, and I miss being with you for longer than five minutes in the morning like this, or when we're falling asleep,"

"Or when he wakes us up," Tonks would have pointed out.

For the hundredth time, Lupin would have wanted to tell her that she was _allowed_ to have a day of work- Kingsley would understand. If she wanted, then she could skip whatever she was meant to be doing today and stay home with him and Teddy. But Tonks would have already pulling her Auror robes on and waving her wand to send her empty cereal bowl into the sink.

"Or when he wakes us up," Lupin would have agreed with a sigh.

Tonks would have stood up and walked over to him. She'd have kissed his jaw, then peaked into the sling and stroked a finger across Teddy's cheek. She'd have slid a finger under his chin to tickle his neck. The baby would have smiled while drinking his milk and his parents would have smiled back at him.

"Totally mental that we made him, isn't it?" Tonks would have whispered.

Lupin would have put his arm around her. "Yes. Totally mental,"

Tonks would have wanted to leave on that note, but her husband would have needed nagging about something important: " _Please_ take him outside today. I am _literally begging_ you. Me and Mum went shopping with him yesterday and he was fine,"

Lupin wouldn't have replied.

"Remus," she'd have prompted.

"I know, I know," he'd have muttered. Lupin would have been nervous about taking their baby into the outside world. The battle was over, but there were still Death Eaters free, and werewolves were even more despised now the wizarding public knew about Greyback's involvement with Voldemort. Lupin reckoned that if he happened to meet somebody who despised him for being a werewolf, they weren't likely to be convinced by insistence that he was actually trying to help bring werewolves to justice. He'd have concluded that it was better to avoid that risk all together, and keep Teddy home where he could ensure that his son would be safe.

"I swear, nothing's going to happen," Tonks would have intoned seriously, "Teddy, tell Daddy that he's being silly. You want to go to the park, don't you?"

She'd have tickled his neck again to make him smile.

"See?" she'd have grinned triumphantly.

"I'll think about it," her husband would have mumbled.

Tonks would have known that she should leave soon, but she allowed herself a moment to touch Teddy's cheek again, and press her face into Lupin's pyjama shirt to breathe him in. She'd have started keeping one his jumpers in her desk drawers so she could take out to smell during the day, although only when no-one was looking.

Perhaps it would have been the reassurance of her husband's solid body, or perhaps it was the feel of Teddy's soft, smooth skin. Perhaps was exhaustion, or most likely it was a combination of all three which led to the tears prickling behind her eyes. And then suddenly she'd have been sobbing, clinging onto Lupin while she pushed her face further into his chest.

"Dora? What's wrong?" he'd have said, sliding his arm off her shoulder and using it to tilt her chin up to look at him, "What is it?"

"Dad," she'd have mumbled, "He'd have told you to stop being so stupid about taking Teddy out. He'd have been here and he'd have wanted to…he'd have loved all this. The baby and everything, and it's… I wish he was here but he isn't, and he's never going to be here again,"

Lupin's insides would have wilted. "I know. I'm so sorry," he'd have murmured, knowing that this was a hopeless comment.

Tonks would have realised she was in danger of squashing Teddy in the sling, so she'd have moved around to lean against Lupin's side and squeeze his hand. She'd have taken a few deep breaths and rubbed her face with her first. She wouldn't have wanted to get upset- she had to leave for work soon, but she also wouldn't have been able to help blurting out: "I thought I'd done, you know, grief, but maybe I didn't do it at all, or properly, or whatever, 'cos there was everything else to worry about. It was like _war war war winning winning winning_. And now we've won it's like _whumpf,_ a big avalanche of _Dad's dead Dad's dead_ hitting me,"

Her voice would have cracked again on the word _dead._ Her father was dead. They had won the war, but too late for her dad, who had gone away in September and wasn't ever going to come back. She would never see him again. All his clothes and tools and magazines and stuff were still in the house- they were all that was left. Ted Tonks was gone.

"I'm sorry," Lupin would have repeated, but she'd have cut him off before he could say anything else.

"Yeah, but sorry isn't gonna being him back, is it?"

Her hand would have gripped his harder, hard enough to hurt.

"No," Lupin would have agreed.

They would have stood side-by-side in silence for a moment. The only noise would have been Teddy sucking on his bottle, which Lupin's free hand would be holding in position against the baby's mouth. The noise, Lupin thought, was reassuring.

Then, Tonks would have murmured, "I didn't think winning would be like this. Did you?"

"Yes,"

"Did it feel like this before?"

"No,"

Lupin would have wanted to add that when the war ended after James and Lily died, he had lost everything. He had been entirely alone. And this time the war had ended, he had a wife and a healthy baby, so of course it was different. Forget the government restructure and public explanation and the fact that the trials would take months, not days to come to court- the real difference was that this time he was not alone. And if he managed to protect Dora and Teddy, he would never be alone again.

"I should go to work," Tonks would have sighed.

Lupin have let go of her hand, rummaged in his pocket and taken out his handkerchief. "Here. Keep it for today,"

She'd have wiped her face on it, and given him a watery smile. "I love you. I'll love you even more if you bloody take Teddy outside today, alright?"

"Alright," he'd have sighed, and neither of them would have entirely believed him.

She'd have kissed them both, told them she loved them again, and that she would miss them both today, before waving and apparating away.

Lupin would have looked at the spot where she'd been standing for a moment. Then he'd have looked down at the baby in the sling.

"So, young man," he'd have asked, "What shall we do today?".

* * *

July

At the start of July, Kingsley would have announced that the Ministry would be closing on Sundays.

"We're working ourselves to the ground," he would have explained, adding that although the situation in government remained urgent, safety of Ministry staff was urgent too. Kingsley would have stated working as hard as the new government had been for the last few weeks was not conducive to staff safety and wellbeing. Which would have meant that on Saturday 11th July, Lupin and Tonks would have gone to bed and not set an alarm clock for the following morning- although they would have been woken up anyway by Teddy, first because he was too hot, then because he needed feeding, then because he'd dirtied his nappy. Since Tonks had fed the baby, Lupin would have got up to change Teddy's nappy, shushing the baby quickly and trying to change him as quietly as possible to avoid waking up Tonks. It wouldn't have worked though, because once he'd placed Teddy back in his cot and climbed back into bed, Tonks would have shuffled over and whispered, "What time is it?"

Lupin would have squinted at his watch. "Ten past one,"

Tonks would have taken him by surprise by propping herself up on her elbow and leaning down to kiss him. The kiss would have been loving and lingering, and she'd have repeated it twice over. When she pulled away Lupin would have blinked up at her, befuddled.

"Happy anniversary," she'd have whispered.

"Oh," he'd have realised, "Right,"

"You forgot!" she'd have accused.

"It's the middle of the night!" he'd protest. Tonks would have cuffed him on the shoulder then kissed the same spot. Then she'd have laid back down half on top of him.

"Is it parchment?" she would have asked, propping her chin on his chest.

"What?"

"You know, the name of the anniversary. Fifty is golden, sixty is diamond. I think the first one is parchment,"

"Easy present, then," Lupin would have mumbled. This would have been a joke- they'd agreed a few weeks ago not to buy each other anniversary presents. Tonks would have bought him one regardless. Lupin would have bought a card and then not known what to write in it. He'd have known that anniversary cards were supposed to contain messages of love and hope, appreciation and gratitude. But he'd have been trying to get better at _saying_ things like that to his wife. To write it down would have been nice, but it also would have seemed a bit of a backwards step. He'd have asked Arthur, his go-to source for husbandly advice, what to do. Arthur would have told him to write from the heart, but in the end Lupin would have filled the card with in-jokes and silly cartoons. He'd have been too busy to draw lately, and would had forgotten how much he enjoyed cartooning. He'd have kept the card at the back of his sock drawer, which would have felt strange. He'd hidden plenty of his thoughts and emotions from his wife before, but never anything physical.

"Anyway, happy wedding anniversary," he'd have said.

He'd have run his hand down her spine and thought how bizarre it was that he, Remus Lupin, was having his one-year wedding anniversary.

"Maybe Mum can look after him tomorrow," Tonks would have suggested, "And we can go back to the flat. Spend all day in bed, how does that sound?"

"By all day in bed, you mean-"

"-Sleeping,"

"Oh, thank goodness," he'd have said with relief, and she'd have giggled.

"Been a bit of a year," Tonks would have yawned after a pause.

"Just slightly," Lupin would have agreed.

"Maybe stuff'll be calmer this year," she's have suggested.

"Calm? With you around?" he'd have answered, "Don't be daft".

* * *

August

Lupin would have been standing over the sink in the bathroom, washing his face. He preferred to be clean before a full moon. Everything about transforming felt dirty and in the morning he'd be covered with mud and grime, so the least he could do was make himself clean beforehand. Tonks would have been leaning against the bathroom doorway, fiddling with one of Teddy's broken dummies, and watching Lupin.

"I hate this," she'd have sighed.

"I know,"

"I keep saying to Kingsley _"When's it going to happen, when's it going to happen?"_ but he doesn't know,"

"You shouldn't pester him, Dora,"

"To keep you safe, I will pester him until the cows come home," she'd have replied stonily, "I know there's other priorities, I know it's expensive and complicated and only about two people in the country can make it, but we need it. _You_ need it,"

Wolfsbane wouldn't be readily available yet, and nobody was sure when it would be. Tonks would be getting increasingly frustrated. It wasn't fair that her husband had to get ill, go through the painful and humiliating transformation, and be out of his mind and in danger for the night. What was the war _for,_ if not to make life safer for people like Remus? Nobody would have started work on re-organising the Werewolf Register yet so they'd still be classified as "Beast" by the Department For The Regulation & Control Of Magical Creatures, and the laws prohibiting employing a werewolf wouldn't have been overturned. Plus, with Greyback and his followers awaiting trial, public opinion on werewolves would have been lower than ever. Nothing would have changed in the last three months, and change didn't seem to be coming soon.

"We need to be patient,"

"It's hard to be bloody patient when we have to live with it! When we have to go through this every month, you getting sick and weak. People don't realise that there's a reality of this, and the reality is you needing me to haul you out of bed this morning, and you coming back tomorrow with cuts all over, and us being away from Teddy for tonight-"

Lupin would have grimaced. He wouldn't have liked his condition being mentioned in the same breath as his son. Lupin and Tonks would have gone back to her flat every full moon night, so right then Teddy would have been back at Andromeda's house, or perhaps he'd have gone to stay at the Burrow. Ginny would be going back to school in September, so it would have been nice for Teddy to spend some time with his godmother before she went away.

"- and the way you'll reek when you get home in the morning, and how scared I am when I'm waiting for you, and how you're all cold and then you're hot and then you shiver. It isn't fair, and people don't realise _any_ of this, they just read their stupid bloody headlines about Fenrir bloody Greyback. And they think you shouldn't get help or get medication, or that it isn't as important as other stuff, or that it doesn't matter, and I'm totally effing sick of it,"

 _People read the headlines and they want me dead,_ Lupin would have thought, _they don't want me on medication because an untame werewolf is more likely to get himself killed._ He'd have known this for years, but the situation would have felt different now that he was a parent. It would have been impossible to view these opinions outside from the perspective of Teddy, and the fact that people- many people, who otherwise had ordinary and unextreme views- wanted Teddy Lupin's father to die, hurt. It hurt a lot.

Lupin have known that Tonks knew all this- this was exactly what she'd been feeling towards him for years, so he didn't say it out loud. Instead, he said wearily:

"Kingsley understands the reality,"

"But the bastards at Regulation Of Magical Creatures don't! What the hell have _they_ been doing the last three months?"

She'd have had an unpleasant suspicion that the Magical Creatures department didn't trust Remus, despite all he was doing for the Greyback trials. That would have made Tonks even more outraged. Why did they _still_ have to keep in the shadows? Why was there _still_ something apparently wrong with him, legally as well as in people's opinions? Why was he _still_ not getting help? It would have made her want to punch a wall.

Her husband would have held out a clammy hand to her and, slightly grudgingly, Tonks would have taken it.

"I know. But it'll be soon, I promise," he'd have vowed. That would have made Tonks feel worse, because Lupin was the one reassuring her, even though it was _him_ who needed comforting now.

"Fine," she'd have mumbled.

He'd have squeezed her fingers, then let go and stretched his arms upward. Tonks would have averted her eyes, knowing that she'd get more irate if she let herself see how red Remus' bite-mark was glowing and how sallow his skin looked tonight. She'd have known that she had every right to be furious, but that getting angry would only going to set Lupin on edge, and that wasn't fair to him.

"Do you want me to get you anything?" she'd have asked, to change the subject.

"No, thank you," Lupin would have answered. Then he'd have added softly, "Just stay here for a while, if you don't mind. Keep talking. Tell me a story,"

He didn't want her indignant, relentless defence of him. He wanted her to be being silly and sweet and bonkers. He wanted to hear about the offbeat way she saw the world and the daft thoughts which whirled round her brain. If she kept talking he could lose himself in what she was saying and just concentrate on her for a while, and not on what was about to happen. She could make him forget. She could make him smile. She could make it hurt less.

"Okay. You got it,"

She'd have wanted to press a kiss to his cheek, though it was always best not to touch Remus when he was getting ready for the full moon. Instead, she'd have hopped up to sit on the toilet's cistern, and began, "Once upon a time, there was a house. No, a castle. No, an igloo,"

Lupin would have smiled, because she knew that this was exactly what she needed. "Which one?"

"A teepee. And in the teepee lived a knight, and her prince, and their Pygmy Puff. And maybe a cow or something too, 'cos the prince likes milk in his tea,"

"Right,"

"And the knight woke up one morning and the Pygmy Puff had gone missing. It left a note, but the note was in Swedish, so nobody could read it,"

Tonks would have rambled on with the story, making it increasingly random and nonsensical, because she knew that would make Lupin laugh. But making him laugh was a brief, short-term improvement to the shitty situation they were trapped in. Tonight would be horrible for her and hell for him. Tonks would have been irritated with Remus himself, too, for being so characteristically stoic and patient. For once, could he _not_ be polite and uncomplaining. Couldn't he _admit_ how hard lycanthropy made his life? All werewolves needed Wolfsbane to stay safe, and Remus of all people deserved it after everything he'd done. He was a war hero for goodness sake. There'd been talk of Order of Merlins which, Tonks would have thought, was bloody typical. Get a fancy medal but be refused medication. How much had changed since the end of the war, really? They'd risked so much and were working so hard, but was there an end in sight? How many more people were suffering? The Weasleys were grieving for Fred and trying to help Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny cope with everything that had happened in the last year. Hogwarts was re-opening next month, though the building was in disarray, the school's reputation even worse, and plenty of students were too traumatised to return. Dad, Mad-Eye, Sirius and Dumbledore were still dead. The British wizarding community was bruised and bewildered, and Muggle-borns were still missing. And Remus was hunched over the sink, half an hour away from turning into a werewolf.

"It was worth it," Tonks would have declared loudly.

"Pardon?" Lupin would have replied.

"Sorry, I know I was in the middle of a story, but I just had to say it,"

"What was worth it?" he'd have questioned.

She'd have squirmed uneasily. "Don't worry. Nothing. I had to make myself say it, to remind myself that it's true," Tonks would have muttered. She'd have paused, then added quietly, "To convince myself that it's true".


	61. Kips

Kips

Sirius was in one of his moods upstairs. Nobody else was home. Tonks was Lupin were standing opposite one another in the kitchen. She was trying not to shout at him.

"No, _you_ don't understand," she growled, "Everybody who comes through his house is a blood-traitor, or a criminal, or some sort of outcast. Or we're jeopardising our safety and our careers for the Order. But _you_ don't realise any of that because you're constantly banging on about being a bloody werewolf,"

"I _do_ realise," Lupin said tightly.

"More of a risk for most of the rest of us than for you," Tonks pointed out, knowing that this was a low blow. It wasn't Remus' fault he didn't have a job or a house to lose as a result of Order involvement. If he had more to jeopardise, of course he would. But the reality was that he didn't have as much to lose as she did, and it was condescending and disrespectful that he believed he has any right to tell her what was worth the risk.

"Yes," he acknowledged, "It's not the danger to myself which concerns me. It's the danger to you,"

"I'm capable of making my own decisions, thanks. And I don't need you to lecture me on what's safe and what isn't,"

Lupin knew that that was true; she was intelligent. But she was also impetuous and impatient, and she was in way over her head in this relationship. They both were, but as she'd pointed out, Tonks was the one with everything to lose. So it was on him to be responsible.

He kept his tone calm and factual: "I'm only acting out of-"

"Fear? Delusion?" Tonks demanded, "You reckon you're the only one of us whose ever been called a freak?"

Remus being a werewolf was. _Not._ Important. She could make her own choices, and she'd chosen him. Why couldn't he understand that?

"That's different. You love being a Metamorphmagus. Your powers are not violent. You have control over how you transform," Lupin explained patiently.

"Not always. Not if I haven't practised for a while," Tonks pointed out, "Not at night,"

Her hair sometimes changed colour when she was asleep. Remus found it adorable. Tonks being a Metamorphmagus _was_ adorable, and he knew that she knew it. She liked being different, she liked having a special power and being unique. She liked changing her face and hair and showing off. Being a Metamorphmagus was something Tonks was proud of, and he loved that about her. There was nothing to love about being a werewolf, or being involved with one. Tonks kept insisting he was treating her like she was stupid and naive, but it _was_ naive and stupid to claim that being a werewolf was comparable to being a Metamorphmagus. Remus knew that she knew that.

"That is not the same as being a dark creature," he said stonily.

For goodness sake, Tonks thought, she hadn't said it was. "Of course not, but you don't have the monopoly on people saying you're weirdo," she growled.

"Nobody says I am weird," Remus pointed out, eliminating any trace of self-pity from his tone. This was not self-indulgence or exaggeration, it was true: "They say I am a monster,"

The word caught Tonks unexpectedly, like a slap. She wanted to hold him tight and promise him that he wasn't a monster. She also wanted to give him a slap for real.

"Will you just _get over_ yourself?" she snarled.

In another circumstance, Lupin could have laughed at that because _get over yourself_ was such a Tonks phrase. Although now he did not laugh.

"Being a Metamorphmagus is not a source of shame and fear," he insisted.

"Being a Metamorphmagus means that people don't trust you 'cos they don't know what you actually look like. I think I remember what my real face is, but how do I know for definate? I don't get how all the rest of you cope, trapped in your bodies forever. I literally don't understand what it's like to look the same every day- it feels like I'm a different species, I'm an alien,"

Tonks didn't like to talk or think about this often. Because Remus was right; she relished her powers. Ninety-five per cent of the time, being a Metamorphmahus was thrilling and hilarious and awesome. But there were moments when she knew she was a freak. Things that were mundane to ordinary people didn't happen to her. Tonks had an "official" face, although she often changed an eyebrow or did some work on her cheekbones, or tried a new chin on for size. Nothing major, only little adjustments, and she enjoyed experimenting. But it meant that her face wasn't consistent. It was a universal human experience she was missing. She aged physically, although if she'd had to change her face entirely, when morphing back to her official face it was difficult to remember every single detail, so sometimes the naturally aging happened twice or three times over. That would be a nightmare when she got old, Tonks knew. There were other, little factors too: she hadn't had a haircut since she was eight. She'd never had to shave. She'd never cut her nails. She could gain and lose weight and muscle naturally, although whenever her friends discussed diets Tonks didn't really know if she should join in or not, considering that her experience of her body was nothing like theirs. It wasn't like anybody's.

"Being a Metamorphmagus means not being sure of who you are 'cos you're changing all the time," she continued, "Sometimes it feels like losing parts of yourself. I've hardly met anyone like me so it's bloody lonely too. Oh, and you know what _is_ a source of shame and fear? Having Bellatrix Lestrange as your mum's sister. Or did you forget that about me?"

Remus knew that she wanted him to retort that of course he hadn't forgotten. Although he knew that that was what Tonks wanted him to say, so he didn't rise to the bait. Lupin stayed silent, and let her continue:

"Is _she_ enough of a dark creature for you? Is she enough of a monster? You claim your blood's tainted- try having mine! Try knowing that _that's_ the kind of person you're related to. People don't half look at you different once they find out your auntie's doing life in Azkaban. And now she's escaped she probably wants me dead, so that's a nice weight to have on my shoulders,"

It had been three months since the Azkaban breakout. The Order had investigated places the Lestranges would be suspected of staying- Malfoy Manor, Godric's Hollow, the inns on Knockturn Alley- but to no avail. Tonks had been considered too much of a risk to go on any of these investigations. If the Ministry had been handling this, they'd have come up with a vague excuse why she was too inexperienced, or they'd busy her with paperwork. In the Order meeting, Mad-Eye had barked, " _Tonks, you're not going because there's a high risk of Lestrange murdering you"._

Mum's family had been dogging Tonks all her life, and their influence only increased with time. Tonks' Auror application took months longer than it should have done because the Ministry had to investigate Mum's relationships to Sirius and the Lestranges. When Sirius escaped mid-way through her training, Mad-Eye hauled her into his office and explained that Black might go after her and her family. But as far as anybody knew then, Sirius' motives were based around the Potters. His beliefs about blood purity and his plans regarding targeting family were unclear. With Bellatrix, there was no ambiguity. Bellatrix hated Muggle-borns. She detested mixed-blood marriages. She despised Mum (Mum refused to say that she hated her back, and Dad said that she didn't. Tonks had never understood that. Wasn't their side united on the idea that family and blood didn't matter?). She probably believed that Tonks was an aberration and must be destroyed. In some ways, that wasn't as disturbing as it had been with Sirius; she had _known_ Sirius, and loved him, and the idea that he wasn't who she'd thought he'd was had haunted her for twelve years. Bellatrix had _always_ been the bogeyman, the monster under the bed, the person Tonks had to be afraid of even before she understood who she was (Mum never sat her down and explained it, but Tonks had heard whispered mentions of her, and she'd seen people double-take at Mum and then mutter, "Sorry, I thought you were…" and tail off, looking anxious). Bellatrix had not betrayed her like Sirius had. Moreover, the unexpectedness of his betrayal of the Potters, and the speed at which he'd been imprisoned meant that Sirius hadn't been questioned about what he felt towards the Blacks and Tonks' family. Whereas Bellatrix had made her feelings very clear. That meant that these last three months hadn't had the unnerving ambiguity of the year Sirius had escaped. The truth was in no doubt- a fanatical criminal who should be doing life wanted Tonks, specifically, to die. And for Bellatrix, "die" didn't just mean cease to be alive, it meant violence and torture, _Crucio_ and _Imperio_ before the _Avada Kedavra._ Death counted as a relief after facing Bellatrix Lestrange. And that was the type of person who was after Tonks.

Lupin looked her in the eye. "I have never claimed that your life is without its complications," he said softly, "Although I find suggestion that being a Metamorphmagus is comparable to being a werewolf rather insulting,"

That caught Tonks by surprise. It was out-of-character for him to say something as self-righteous as that.

"Well," she spluttered, "I find you insulting!"

Lupin's insides wilted defeatedly. That was it, then. They were over. He knew that this would happen sooner or later. The last few weeks had been more than he had ever dreamed of, and now it was time to wake up. It was for the best. It would make her safe, and she'd be happier in the long run. His own happiness was not important.

He needed to leave. He should to get out of Grimmauld Place before either of them got upset, or before he did anything to make this worse than it already was. He needed to get away from Tonks, and stay away from Tonks.

"I should leave," Lupin said hastily, "This was selfish. I apologise. I suppose it's best if we don't see each other for-"

He backed away towards the door, and Tonks wondered what in Camelot he was doing.

"What?" she yelped.

"I'm sorry for everything. I'll try to arrange matters so we don't get put on Order duty together for the next few weeks,"

He'd survived humiliation and heartbreak before. This would hurt, but he knew it was right.

Tonks suddenly understood what he meant: "Are you splitting up with me?"

That caught him off guard. _"Aren't_ we splitting up?"

That's what she'd meant when she said she found him insulting, wasn't it? That's what happened after an argument like this.

"What? No. Are we?" she yelped.

"We're arguing," Lupin pointed out.

"Yeah, but not enough to split up," Tonks scoffed, baffled. How did he get from arguing to breaking up? Unless that was what _he_ wanted. Was starting harping about being a werewolf a the lead-up to dumping her? That was the sort of strange evasive plan Remus would engineer. Was this it, then? Was he ending it? Panicky thoughts were shooting through her brain; she felt as if he had shoved her.

"Do you want to split up?" she demanded.

"No," said Lupin, shaking his head. He'd reckoned that she wanted to. Hadn't she?

"Well, then," said Tonks, folding her arms in front of her. A barrier between them. She was trying to pretend to be in control, although in reality he was making her head spin. She wanted to clutch his lapels and promise that she didn't want to break up with him, that she really fancied him and she thought he was marvellous.

Lupin said the only thing he could think of: "Oh,"

Tonks seemed to be suspecting that he was trying to break up with her, which wasn't true. Lupin had wanted her to consider the reality of their relationship and how perilous being involved with him was. But he hadn't been trying to end them. He'd thought that Tonks had lost patience with him and wanted to split up…but she seemed to be denying that. Had he got the wrong end of the stick? Everything about this was mystifying. Wearily, he thought that it wasn't just Tonks who was in over her head.

"I'm sorry, I'm not good at this," Remus added.

"Okay," said Tonks slowly, "Let's get it straight that we haven't broken up, and we aren't breaking up,"

Tonks hoped that she didn't sound like she was patronising him- but he was so befuddled that she decided it was easier to go slowly to ensure that he was clear what was going on. Considering he was so eloquent, communication wasn't his strong point. She willed him to say no, to tell here that they weren't breaking up and that he still wanted her.

"I don't think so," he muttered.

"I don't think so either," she agreed.

"Right,"

"It's okay to argue, you know? We can argue and we can still be together," she said, resisting the temptation to add, " _That's how relationships work, you idiot"._

Lupin nodded, considering it best not to speak further. And he was ashamed to acknowledge that he felt more relief than guilt about the apparent non-break-up. A voice in the back of his head pointed out that Tonks would end their relationship _one day_ , and letting it drag on was only putting off the pain. The longer they stayed together, the deeper his feelings for her drilled inside him, which meant that it would only hurt more when she _did_ split up with him. The voice added that if he had a shred of decency and an ounce of respect for her, he would end it himself.

"Shall we agree we've finished arguing then?" Tonks said, interrupting the internal voice.

Lupin knew that he wouldn't stop being a werewolf or being a threat to her just because they'd stopped arguing. He knew that the argument would happen again sooner or later. He knew how contented, full, safe and alive he felt with her. He hadn't managed to say any of that out loud, though Tonks had said similar things to him. She told him how she hadn't ever met anybody like him, and how he was handsome, witty, exciting and special. Lupin knew that none of that was true, but he knew that she wasn't mocking him either. What did it mean, then? He didn't understand and he was desperate to find out. She'd _made him_ desperate to find out.

He swallowed. "Yes,"

Tonks tried not to let her sigh of relief be too obvious. She was still irked enough not to want to kiss him, but he looked nonplussed and uneasy and in need of reassurance, so she compromised by reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. He was aggravating. But he was also lovely. And intriguing. And probably the cleverest person she knew. He was serious _effort_ \- they'd barely been together a month and it was clear that it'd been ages since Remus had been involved with anybody that long. Involved this seriously, at any rate. In any other circumstance, Tonks would have scoffed that a month was yonks too early to _be_ serious with anybody. But it was different with her and Remus. They were colleagues first, so they knew each other and had seen each other in all different moods and had a friendship for months before they started to fall for one another. Tonks reckoned that since they'd been together they'd got closer faster than in usual relationships, because they spent time in instead of going out on dates. They didn't bother to dress up for each other and make small-talk about starters and aperitifs and whose turn it was to get the bill. Their whole relationship so far had been a simple, stripped-down type of romance. Tonks wouldn't have gone looking for that type of relationship, but now it had happened she'd decided that she liked cutting through the crap. Dating and flirting and leading each other on would have felt perverse with Remus.

She couldn't help but feel flattered by the fact that he'd avoided romance for a long time but had given up his evasion to being in a relationship _with_ her. _Because_ of her. Remus was hesitant to talk about his feelings, but the fact that he was trying this with her said enough. He wasn't _bad_ at relationships, she insisted to herself. He was just…unprepared. Nervous. Clueless. Exhibit A: the conversation they'd just had, in which he didn't understand the difference between an argument and a break-up. He was a challenge and a fascination. His blunderingness and skittishness were infuriating. Which meant, Tonks acknowledged, feeling both affection and irritation towards him, that he was always giving her stuff to think about.


	62. If: Autumn

If: Autumn

September

If they'd have lived, they'd have gone on holiday in September. The re-opening of Hogwarts would have been a milestone for the new Ministry, so after the school term started, most Ministry staff would have gone down to working five days a week, or at least fewer hours on the sixth. The Order would have encouraged each other to take a break, so Tonks and Lupin would have booked a few days away at a seaside town. A Muggle place would be safer, although Lupin would have worried that resorts like Blackpool and Whitstable were too busy (he'd still be worried about any stray Death Eaters finding them). Perhaps they'd have gone to one of the quaint coastal villages in Wales which Remus had holidayed at as a child. They would have taken Teddy to the beach to dig holes and build sandcastles. Tonks would have wanted to feed him ice-cream, which Andromeda, who would have come on the holiday too, would have disapproved of. However, Teddy's grandmother would have appreciated getting out of the city and watching Teddy kick around in the sand. She would have showed him the beach-huts and deckchairs, and promised that when he was older she'd buy him a beachball to play with and let him go on donkey rides. Lupin would have taken Teddy to the shore to dip his toes in the Atlantic, which would have been so cold that Teddy would have cried. Retreating back away from the water, he'd have put Teddy's hands and toes into the muddy sand by the shore, and the baby would have chuckled at the strange jelly texture of it. Lupin would have used a stick to write their names in the wet sand:

TEDDY

GRANNY

MUMMY

DADDY

Looking at the four names together and at himself listed as "Daddy" would have made Lupin rather emotional. They were a family. He was part of a family. He was on holiday with his mother-in-law and his wife and his child, playing on the beach like families did. It was as if they were a family in a storybook or a postcard- except this was reality. It was astounding.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" Andromeda would have smirked, walking over to him.

"Perhaps," Lupin would have replied in a mumble. He'd have thrown her a glance, then looked back at the letters in the sand.

"Your letter Ys are wonky," Andromeda would have pointed out. They'd have reached his point of friendly teasing by now. It was nearly always her teasing him, but Lupin would have been fine with that.

"I know," he'd have agreed, too pensive banter back.

Andromeda seemed to understand, because she said, "I'll leave you to contemplate your handwriting," and began to walk away again, back to where Tonks was playing with Teddy further away from the shore.

Lupin would have nodded and looked back down at the words. TEDDY GRANNY MUMMY DADDY. His family.

"Wait a moment," he'd have heard himself call. Andromeda would have turned around to face him again, and Lupin would have added, "Would you mind taking a photograph?".

The next day, the four of them would have visited the arcade. Tonks would have waited until nobody was looking, then charmed the claw machine to let her win Teddy massive cuddly toys (Andromeda would have rolled her eyes). Tonks would have collected keepsakes to remind them of their first family holiday: the plastic coins from the arcade, shells from the beach, the map her husband and mother bickered over, the remnants of the sticks from their ice-lollies. Money would still be tight, so there'd be no money for meals out in the evening. Instead, they'd have lived off sandwiches, fish-and-chips, candyfloss and hotdogs.

A couple of times, Andromeda would have offered to babysit Teddy for the evening, and Tonks and Lupin would have gone for starlit walks down the beach.

"Do you s'pose this counts as our honeymoon?" Tonks would have asked.

Lupin, having not considered a honeymoon at all, would have shrugged. "Do you want it to?"

"Dunno. I don't reckon you're meant to bring your kid on your honeymoon,"

"I wouldn't want to go on holiday without him," Lupin would have murmured.

"Yeah, and as the person who provides his food, I doubt he'd be best pleased about me disappearing off to Miami or somewhere for a fortnight,"

"Is that where we'd go?" he would have said, looking over at her and smiling, "Miami?"

"No. Miami's boring, and full of old people," Tonks would have decided, "We'd go to Tibet,"

"Too cold,"

"You're always cold!" she'd protest.

"Let's go somewhere warm. The Tropics," Lupin would have suggested.

"What the hell is the Tropics?"

"The Bahamas. South America. Hawaii,"

"Why can't you say that, then? It's like when you call Europe _'the Continent'_ ,"

"Europe _is_ a continent,"

"Yeah, _a_ continent, not _the_ continent," she'd have said, unlinking their fingers to jab him in the ribs.

He'd have grabbed her then, scooped her up and pretended to throw her in the ocean. Tonks would have yelped and tried to wriggle out of his arms, and Lupin would have dropped her. She'd have squealed at the sudden coldness, splashed water at him, and grabbed his ankle to try to pull him down too. Lupin would have yanked his foot free and kicked water back at her, and then they'd have been shrieking and cackling and throwing water at one another. Eventually, shivering and soaked, one of them would have surrendered, and they'd have staggered back onto the dry sand. They'd have cast drying charms on themselves, Lupin would have offered her his jacket and, since it'd be dark there wouldn't be anybody around to see and think she was being wussy or clingy, Tonks would have taken it and draped it round her shoulders. They'd have held hands on the walk back to the hotel and Lupin, feeling an itch in his hair and grains of sand in his trouser pockets, would have felt thrilled and bemused that this was now his real life, that now he was the type of man who had splash-fights and ended up with sand in his hair and clothes. And he would have felt, for the thousandth time, indescribably grateful for the amazing woman he would have got to call his wife.

* * *

October

"Mum?" Tonks would have said tentatively, sidling into the living room. Her mother would have been flipping through a magazine with the radio on in the background. Lupin would have been upstairs bathing the baby. That would have usually been one of Tonks' favourite tasks because Teddy liked being bathed, and he was so bloody cute when he smiled up at her from his little plastic bath-basin. He was six months old now, so becoming more fun and more troublesome. He loved touching different textures, even if it was just the carpet or the sole of a shoe. He liked to pick stuff off the floor, which meant that his hands were often covered in grime. Teddy hadn't worked out how to roll over or shuffle on his bottom yet, so when he was set down somewhere he found it difficult to move. That was a relief, because if he'd been mobile he could have yanked or knocked anything. He'd developed a habit of grabbing any chain or cord within reach- Tonks and Andromeda had stopped wearing jewellery to avoid being garrotted.

He was getting bigger and heavier, making breast-feeding and bottle-feeding increasingly dead-arm-inducing for his parents and grandmother. They were hoping to start him on solid foods soon. Teddy would have become louder to- "Ba!" was his favourite sound, closely followed by "A!" and "Pa!". Tonks would have been convinced that they weren't too far away from Teddy saying, "Mama". She would have have been thrilled at the way his morphing abilities were changing, too. In his first days and weeks, Teddy's hair would have turned red when he was experiencing any kind of negative emotion. Over the last few months, his body would have started developing different shades for different sensations. A bright red was hungry. If Teddy's hair turned maroon it meant he'd dirtied his nappy. Pale pink usually showed that he was cold, and if Teddy's hair went orange he was probably lonely or in need of a hug. Green or turquoise were his happy colours (Tonks would have kept trying to make, "It's a Green Day," a running gag, although Remus didn't know who the band were so he didn't get the joke). Sometimes when he was bawling, he'd screw up his face, and his ears or nose or eyebrows would morph into a different shape. None of this was under Teddy's control, but Tonks would have reckoned that it was certainly a good sign. Every time Teddy changed his face or hair she'd tell him how clever he was, how proud she was of him and how handsome he looked, even if he was screaming his head off. When he wasn't stroppy or tearful though, he had the most killer smile. Tonks would have been sure that he wouldn't even need to morph his face because he was going to be a total stunner. Everybody would have said he looked like his daddy. Lupin would have stopped denying this months ago, and would now swell with pride when somebody pointed out that Teddy looked just like him.

However, one thing Teddy wouldn't have enjoyed at the moment was sleep. Since the Summer had ended, he'd decided that the world was too much fun to switch off from every evening. Every night his parents would have changed him into his pyjamas, read him a story, given him a goodnight kiss, switched his night-light on and the big light off, and shut the bedroom door. And then Teddy would start to giggle, and then fuss, and then cry, and then yowl. Andromeda would have recommended leaving him to cry it out, but Teddy would have grumbled and squawked for long enough that eventually one of the three of them would have to go back into the bedroom to shush him, give him a cuddle or a feed, re-arrange his blankets and try to get him to sleep. Teddy might drift off for a few minutes only to wake up and start again. He seemed to have a sixth-sense for when his parents were creeping into the room to go to bed, because he usually woke up then. Tonks and Lupin had started taking it in turns to sleep on the sofa. After a couple of weeks of this, all three of the adults in the house were getting exhausted and exasperated (Molly Weasley was usually a sympathetic ear to baby-related issues, although when Tonks had mentioned the current problem, Molly would have pointed out that Tonks was lucky not to have six older children kept awake by a howling baby).

It was Teddy's wash night tonight, and since Lupin was better at calming him down, he'd have offered to do bathtime. They'd have hoped that a gentle bath would have made Teddy mellow and sleepy, but that plan hadn't proved successful last week. It would have, however, give Tonks the opportunity to start a conversation with her mother, which she'd been putting off for days now.

"Yes?" said Andromeda.

"Are you busy?"

"No. What is it?"

Tonks would have perched on the arm of the sofa and fiddled with the sleeve of her shirt.

"Remus and I were thinking about moving home," she'd have said, "Back to my flat, I mean,"

Andromeda would have lowered her magazine and peered over her reading glasses to eye her daughter. This development, she'd have thought, was both blindsiding and entirely expected.

"When?" Andromeda would have asked.

"I don't know. Not right now this second, but maybe soon," Tonks would have blurted, "If you're okay with that,"

Andromeda would have known that her daughter didn't mean that last sentence. Nymphadora would move home with her husband and baby whether Andromeda liked it or not. And why shouldn't she? After all that had happened, Nymphadora deserved to get on with her own life. But it meant that Andromeda would be left alone in the house, full of Ted's possessions and Ted's memories, with no difficult daughter or new grandson or complicated son-in-law to fill the silence.

Andromeda would have known that her daughter knew this too, because she would have added, "I know it'll be hard to be here alone without Dad,"

"It's hard already," Andromeda would have replied stonily.

"We'll visit as much as you want, or you could come to us, a few times a week if you fancy it,"

When Andromeda's daughter first announced that she was marrying a werewolf, it had hurt Andromeda to hear her refer to them as, "us". _"You can't tell us what to do, Mum". "This is about us, not you". "It's up to us"._ As Andromeda has got to know her son-in-law, the "us" has hurt less, especially the times when "us" included the four of them- Teddy, Remus, Nymphadora and herself. Since Ted died, that "us" had been a comforting distraction. The birth of a grandson so soon after the death of a husband had been an emotional overload, although at least some of the emotions a new baby brought were positive ones. Joy, pride, awe. Love. Andromeda had had a purpose. If the three of them were planning to go away, Andromeda would lose that purpose. The "us" would go back to being Nymphadora and Remus and Teddy.

"You don't need to mollify me," Andromeda would have snapped, "I know you're going to do what you want regardless,"

"I came to _ask_ you!" her daughter would have shot back, "To see if you minded, but if you think I care about you so little, then forget I said anything!"

They would have glared at each other. Guilt would have seeped into Andromeda's skin, because they'd been getting on better since the war had ended. Nymphadora actually asked for her advice about feeding and nappies and rattles, instead of going straight to Molly Weasley. Remus would have been elated to be a parent and surprisingly capable- Andromeda suspected that Nymphadora didn't want to rain on his parade by talking to him about the parts she was finding difficult. Therefore, she would have started coming to Andromeda her when she felt overwhelmed or uncertain, or when she'd realised how repetitive and endless raising a baby was. Losing Ted had would have brought them closer, too. They'd talk about him often, and sometimes they would curl up on the sofa and cry together- tears of sadness but also of fury at how brutally he had been taken. Molly Weasley's son, and the others who'd died in the Battle of Hogwarts, had been given grand funerals. Ted's body had never been found. He would have rotted into the Earth by now- coffinless, unmarked, unknown.

"Sorry, shouldn't have snapped," muttered Nymphadora unexpectedly. She had hardly ever apologised for getting cross at Andromeda before. "I meant it when I said it was up to you. You know what Remus is like: he won't agree unless he's sure that you're not going to be lonely without us,"

"The peace and quiet might be nice," Andromeda said. She wouldn't have wanted to argue, so would have forced a smirk to go with the joke, which they both knew was a lie.

"Yeah, 'specially a night," her daughter would have mumbled in agreement.

"All that caterwauling,"

"And that's just me,"

The banter would have been forced, and they both knew they were only going along with it to avoid a fight. There was another way to avoid this argument, too- agree. If Andromeda agreed, there would be nothing to row about. She took a deep breath and continued:

"Go as soon as you're ready,"

The words both lightened the load on Andromeda's shoulders, and darkened the room around her. What was she supposed to do- keep her daughter here forever? Nymphadora needed her own space, and privacy with her husband and the baby (sometimes when the four of the were in a room together, Andromeda would have been able to sense Nymphadora and Remus wanting to kiss or snuggle up together, yet resisting for her sake. That made her irritated, and then embarrassed when she'd glance and Remus and know that he knew that she knew. He was too perceptive for his own good). Teddy was six months old now, and would have needed consistency. Nymphadora and Remus weren't going to live here forever, so it was best that Teddy didn't get overly used to this house. Andromeda would have known that she couldn't let her life revolve them either. She was not Molly Weasley. Her life was not babies and bottles and breast-feeding advice. Her family had been her purpose for the last year, but she shouldn't let them be her purpose forever. Andromeda would have known that she had more to do and more to offer than that. Teddy her grandson was not going to bring back Ted her husband. She shouldn't tread water in the safety of her family. However, intimidating and isolating the future seemed, Andromeda had to move forward.

Nymphadora's face would have cracked into a beam. "Thanks, Mum,"

Andromeda would have forced herself to smile back, though the expression felt wan on her lips.

"We'll visit loads, I promise," Nymphadora chirped, "Don't think you're getting out of babysitting this easy,"

The joke landed flatly, too, and Nymphadora would have added hurriedly, "It needn't be soon, either, we're not leaving tomorrow or anything,"

"Whenever you're ready," Andromeda would have repeated.

"I'm gonna go and tell Remus," her daughter would have announced, leaping to her feet and striding over to the living room door. Andromeda would have grimaced, knowing that Remus was bound to be as remorseful and concerned about this as he would be pleased. Before, Andromeda reflected, she'd have assumed that Remus' worrying about her was insincere. Then there'd been months were she'd have got frustrated at his concern, believing it to belie a spinelessness and over-fastidiousness. Now though, Andromeda was touched at knowing that Remus would be anxious about how she would react to the news. His regard for her was genuine and, while still slightly irritating, didn't make him soft. It made him kind.

"Tell him not to feel guilty about it," Andromeda would have added. She'd have got the impression that becoming a parent had made Remus less hard on himself, although they wouldn't have had the type of relationship where those types of emotions were discussed.

Nymphadora would have turned around and nodded pensively. "Yeah. Good point,"

Then she shrugged in a _we'll see how it goes_ way. Andromeda considered having a word with Remus about it later to assure him that she'd agreed their move, and didn't feel as if he was taking her daughter and grandson away from her. Abruptly, she'd have realised that she would miss having Remus around. He was a calming influence, he was helpful around the house, and he was intelligent and interesting to talk to. Despite his and Andromeda's vastly different upbringings, they both appreciated books and French and classical music. She'd got used to having him here, so it would be strange without him.

"Thank you, Mum!" Nymphadora would have repeated, glowing. Then she would have sped away upstairs, leaving Andromeda alone with her thoughts. She would have supposed that that was something she would have to get used to.

* * *

November

"This is a breakthrough," Tonks would have declared, punching the air as she walked back into her living room. Teddy would have got to sleep within ten minutes of being put in his cot, which hadn't happened in weeks. Tonks would have walked over to her husband and kissed him on the forehead. He'd have closed his book and, wordlessly, walked out of the room, then reappeared a few moments later holding a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"This is a cause for celebration," Lupin would have announced. Tonks would have sniggered as he poured them both a glass and clinked his against hers. One of the nice parts about living back at her flat was being able to get drunk together. Andromeda liked a drink, but Remus hadn't ever felt comfortable about cracking a bottle of wine out with her. Now they were back at their flat, drinking his wife would have suddenly been an exciting activity to rediscover. That was probably the reason why the alcohol took hold quicker than usual; soon they would have been giggling giddily together, and Tonks would have been climbing onto his lap and kissing him through laughter. Lupin would have slid his hands over her shoulders, down to her waist and hips. Tonks would have shuffled closer, pressing their bodies together as they kissed deeper and damper. She'd have cupped his face in one hand, relishing the sensation his smile through his jaw as well as in the way his mouth was shaped against hers. She'd have enjoyed, too, the feeling of his legs between hers as she straddled him. Lupin's hands would have wandered back up her torso, unintentionally brushing the side of her breast with his hand.

Tonks would have winced. "Ow,"

"Sorry," Lupin would have muttered, peeling his eyes open. Hers would still have been shut, and their mouths would have moved only millimetres away from one another's as they spoke.

"It's okay,"

"Still a bit sore?"

"Yeah," Tonks would have admitted, opening her eyes. She'd have been breast-feeding on-and-off, plus expressing milk a few times a week, leaving her chest chaffed and sensitive to touch.

Lupin would have considered for a moment, then nudged her off his knees and instructed, "Alright, stand up,"

His wife would have done as he told her and he'd have followed, then turned her around slowly so that they were standing against each other with her back brushing his chest. He'd have slid his hands into the pockets at the front of Tonks' jeans and rubbed his face into the bristles at the back of her hair, loving the texture of soft spikiness against his skin. Lupin would have put his hands gently on her face from behind and stroked then across her cheeks, her mouth, her jaw, her chin. Then he'd have pressed a kiss to the centre of her head, and then another slightly further up, and then another, until he reached the top of her head, then worked his way back down slightly to the left.

"I. Love. Every. Single," he'd have said, between kisses, "Ångström. Of. You,"

Tonks would have had no idea what an ångström was, which would have made it even sexier to hear. Anybody could say they loved every part or inch or centimetre of someone, but it was specifically Remus-y to come up with a word like ang-whatever-it-was. She'd have also liked the fact that, once, there was a time when he'd have thought that saying words like that would have made her think him pretentious. Now, however, they both knew when she found his intelligence was patronising, and when she found it fascinating and hot.

He'd have kept going until he'd covered the back of Tonks' head in kisses, and then he'd reach round to lap at her ears. He'd have kissed the side of her face and then worked his way down to her neck, belong raspberries on her skin in the way which always made her cackle and yelp and wriggle. The feeling of his wife squirming with mirth against his body would have made Lupin breathless with delight. He'd have leaned down to whisper into her ear.

"Are your eyes open?"

"Yep," she'd have nodded, still sniggering.

"Watch," he'd have whispered, and held his hands out a few inches in front of her chest, "This is what I would be doing if I could touch you,"

He'd start to hold and fondle imaginary breasts. Bloody Camelot , Tonks would have thought, that was erotic. Watching what he wanted to do to her, being unable to physically feel it but imagining the sensation. Lupin would be kissing her face, and his breath would have been coming increasingly heavy and warm near her ear. His voice would have got gruff as he mumbled words between kisses: "wife," and "beautiful," and, "love," and "incredible". He'd be pressed against her from chest to knees, and then he'd have wedged his knee between her legs for her to rub herself against. She'd wanted to close her eyes and tip her head back against him, yet she'd also want to keep watching his elegant hands at work on her imaginary breasts.

"Nnf...Remus," she'd have managed to breathe, "Do you want to...do you want to go to the bedroom?"

Lupin would have raised an eyebrow and pointed out that Teddy was asleep in the bedroom. Tonks would have known that while that was true, what her husband was meant was that he didn't want to go to the bedroom- he wanted to shag on the living room floor. He'd hardly ever wanted anything like that before, though it wasn't a huge shock now, because he'd become much more enthusiastic about sex over the last year. Work and a new baby left intimacy a rare occurrence, but when they did have the time and the energy, Remus would have enjoyed it more than he ever had before. He wouldn't have felt a sense of shame lingering in the back of his mind. There was nothing shameful about this. This was not, as he had once believed, an act of indecency or violation. How could there be anything indecent about recreating the act which had created their son? It as the opposite of dirty- it was pure. At times it seemed almost sacred. This was not violating his wife- this was honouring her. Worshipping the body which had, in their son, given him the greatest gift imaginable. It was his privilege to be with her in this way. Sex would have felt like a celebration of their love and the fact that they were alive.

There'd also be a thrill in relearning each other's bodies. Lupin would have put on weight, so she'd have had to get used to how heavy he was on top of her now (he would have been concerned about squashing her). Tonks would have appreciated feeling the alien bulge of new muscles in his arms. His jaw and cheekbones would have been less defined, too, and when Tonks rubbed at hand down his body she'd notice that Remus' stomach protruded out further than it had before. In photos of him as a child, he was tubby and round. Tonks would have wondered what he'd look like if he kept putting on weight and became chubby, even fat. A fat Remus would have been difficult to imagine, like imagining him with ginger hair or an extra nose. In the gory history books, her dad's family would have bought her a child, Tonks had read about how, hundreds of years ago, plumpness was a sign of affluence. A fat belly showed being able to afford food to gorge on. She would have liked looking at Remus and thinking about that. Knowing that he finally had enough food inside him, that she would always be there to take care of him and keep him healthy.

Tonks would be struggling more with her own changing body. She'd have lost most of the pregnancy weight, but her body would have felt flabby and puffed-up. Parts that used to be easy to morph were now more difficult- the pirate ship tattoo above her hip had stretched, and no matter how hard she tried, she could never morph it back to the way it looked before. Teddy would still be breastfeeding, which wouldn't just make her breasts leaky and painful, but her back and her arms sore too. This would have been inconvenient yet also exciting for Remus. It would be a thrill to deal with these new developments, to experiment (Lupin would have refused to use this word, and would have blushed scarlet if Tonks had used it with him) which what each other wanted. Tonks would have felt happier now that their sex life was less transactional. Now, she'd have been assured that he'd tell her if he wasn't enjoying it or wanted to stop- she didn't have to keep observing him and checking if he was alright. She could relax.

It wouldn't have been perfect. Remus would still have refused to have the lights on. Tonks would still have to coax him to say more than a few mumblings, and he would still find dirty talk mortifying. His problems getting hard would still occur (though now he'd believe her more when she promised that it was fine). Lupin still would have been embarrassed to talk about sex or say what he wanted, so Tonks struggled to calculate what he'd consider doing and what was a non-negotiable no. Plus, sex wouldn't be that often anyway given the baby's presence and the exhaustion he created. Sometimes they'd try to start and then one of them would end up too tired to carry on.

But tonight it would have happened. They'd have rolled over and over on the carpet- her on top, bouncing around on his lap while she panted his name, and then he'd flip them over, pinning her hips with his as he writhed against her. She'd have been loud, which would have made him laugh, and he'd have been able to laugh through it by then.

Afterwards, because Lupin still disliked being naked for long, she'd have summoned the blanket from the sofa to cover them while they snuggled up together.

"That was…." Tonks would have sighed contentedly, "You're just…wow,"

Lupin would have lifted an eyebrow. "I am wow?"

"Totally wow," she'd have beamed, nuzzling his neck, "Remus Wow. Professor Wow,"

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks,"

"What?"

He would have dipped his head to stamp a kiss on her shoulder. "Never mind. You're right, Nymphadora Wow,"

They'd have lain there happily for a few minutes, getting their breath back and beaming. Then Tonks would have said, "S'pose we'd better hope that you've haven't knocked me up again,"

Lupin would have sat bolt upright. " _What?_ I thought you were taking the contraceptive potion?"

"We've been busy, I might have skipped a couple of days,"

"Tonks! Not _again!"_ he would have groaned.

She'd have let the look of panic flash over his face for a few moments before bursting into giggles, "Kidding, of course I didn't skip it. Not now I know how unreliable your prophylactic charms are,"

She'd have pinched his bicep and Lupin would have exhaled heavily with relief, then he'd have started chuckling too.

"Your face!" Tonks would have cheered, spluttering.

"You are the _worst,"_

"You believed me!"

"I nearly had a heart attack!"

And then they would have been guffawing together on the carpet, unable to stop.


	63. Ziekenhuis

Ziekenhuis

It was her half-birthday tomorrow. Remus knew this because she'd been talking about it for weeks. Tonks' real birthday was three days before Christmas, which meant that it had always been during the school holidays. As a result, she'd never been able to spend her birthday with her friends, and at home it had always been overshadowed by Christmas. When Tonks was in her third year, she'd decided that she'd celebrate her half-birthday on 22nd June, so she could spend it with her friends. Usually that date was after the end of exams, so it worked out well, and the tradition had continued into adulthood. She'd told Remus about it months ago, and throughout May she'd dropped hints that she'd like him to come, until he had to tell her bluntly that he couldn't.

" _Won't,_ you mean," Tonks had retorted.

"Both. You know why. We've been over this time and time again," he said, trying to sound more patient than he felt.

"Yeah. Fine. Didn't really think you would," she muttered, defeated.

"I'll still get you a present," Remus promised.

"You don't have to do that,"

"I know. I want to,"

"Doesn't have to be anything big,"

Remus hated the way she was trying to excuse him from buying her anything. As far as he was concerned, money was _for_ spending on people he loved. He had planned to buy her a gift that was special and personal: a present that nobody else would think to give her.

As it happened though, Remus hadn't got round to buying her anything. Four days before Tonks' half-birthday, Severus had rushed to Grimmauld Place with an urgent message: Voldemort had tricked Harry and his friends into going to the Department of Mysteries. Remus had rushed- with Tonks, Mad-Eye, Kingsley and Sirius- to the Ministry, to protect Harry and his friends. The Death Eaters got there first. They had fought. And Sirius had died.

Dora was hit by a curse and had been in hospital since. There hadn't been any discussion about who would inform her of Sirius' death- everybody knew that that was Mad Eye's responsibility. Remus was grateful that he'd been spared the task of having to tell her. It had been hard enough to say the words to Harry. Repeating the fact without the adrenalin of battle, sitting beside Tonks' hospital bed while holding her hand and looking into her face, would have upset him too much. Remus had never been much of a crier, and he'd only allowed himself to get tearful about Sirius when he was safely at home in his cottage, alone. Not at Grimmauld Place, not with Kingsley or Molly or Dumbledore, and absolutely not with Tonks. She was burrowed so far into his heart and knew so many things about him which had been strictly private until he met her, that the idea of _crying_ in front of her made Remus feel horribly vulnerable.

Since Tonks was admitted to hospital on the night Sirius died, Remus had come to see her twice a day, carefully planning his visits to avoid her parents. Every time she saw him Tonks had burst into tears about Sirius, then got cross at herself for being the one to cry when it was Remus who'd just lost his best friend. The curse Bellatrix had used on Tonks (still unidentified by the Healers) had left her woozy and lethargic. She'd slur her words and become more frustrated. She'd mumble repeatedly that she was sorry because she knew that Sirius' death was her fault.

"It wasn't," Remus had told her yesterday, "There was nothing you could have done,"

"Could have beat B-Bellatrix," she'd stuttered, "Defended him,"

"You did everything you could,"

Tonks pressed her face against his shoulder then, and he'd rubbed a hand up and down her back while she cried. Remus didn't want to say that Sirius' death was on _his_ conscience, but the truth was that it _was_ his fault. _He_ was supposed to protect Sirius. He knew, miles better than Dora did, about how rash and determined Sirius could be. Remus had tried to persuade him to stay at Grimmauld while the rest of them went to defend Harry, but Sirius had refused to listen. Remus had known that arguing about it would have slowed them down so, prioritising getting to the Ministry over Sirius' safety, he had stropped arguing and let Sirius come. Sirius' death was _his_ responsibility. _He_ was the one who had failed.

* * *

He hadn't mentioned her half-birthday this evening. Tonks had been disorientated, and had fallen asleep only ten minutes after Remus had arrived at St Mungo's. He'd seen her sleep plenty of times before, but it was different when he was watching her from a plastic hospital chair and holding her hand uselessly in his. Her hair had faded from its usual hot pink to a warm pinkish-brown. Remus liked the colour, but he knew that Tonks wouldn't. She disliked her hair changing when she didn't want it to.

Remus watched her chest rise and fall, and thought about the fact that never, in his whole life, had he wanted this to happen. Everything that had gone on between them over the past few months was everything he had never asked for. He had never lain awake at night imagining what it would feel like to fall in love. He had never questioned if it would ever happen to him- in fact, he was relieved that it hadn't. Remus had had a couple of brief romances with women over the last fourteen years, but none of them counted as a relationship, and certainly not a serious one. More common was receiving a shrewd look from a man in a Muggle pub, a flick of a head, an offer of a drink, or perhaps a conversation. And then Remus would follow the stranger outside or into the toilets for confused, confusing kisses and dispassionate fumbling with each other's bodies. It _was_ just bodies, just wanting to be touched, to feel something. It was easier with Muggles, because the wizarding world was small so there was a high chance of bumping into somebody again, whereas a Muggle man could wander into the night or the crowd and disappear. Plus, in the Muggle world Remus could remain unknown, while in the wizarding world his affliction was always lurking. Nobody in the wizarding world would want to touch him if they knew what he was, and if they didn't know then Remus was a bastard for deceiving them. He had never in a million years expected to fall in love with someone who insisted that they didn't care about his disease and his savagery. They'd argued about it a few times because Remus refused to believe that it was true, but Dora had said it over and over, and never once wavered.

He hadn't expected to have a _girl_ friend, either. Historically, Remus had found that sex with a woman felt more unsavoury and indecent than with men. Except, more perturbingly, with Tonks it hadn't been sex. Remus had never expected to know somebody who wanted to _make love_ to him. It had felt more wrong because of how young she was- Sirius insisted that Remus should feel flattered by Tonks' interest in him since most blokes, secretly or not, wanted to date a younger woman. Remus had never wanted to. He'd never expected to meet someone like her: funny and ridiculous and bright and big-hearted and noisy and brave and lovely. He had never thought particularly highly of himself, so he'd never wanted anybody to look at him with the mixture of thrill, fascination and pride with which Tonks gazed at him. Sirius had occasionally tried to force Remus to accept a purseful of gold from him to buy new clothes or a record or a book, but that was different. He'd known Sirius forever. Remus had never imagined meeting somebody _now_ who'd be as desperate as Dora was to buy him presents and concert tickets and a new suit (he had always refused the offers from both her and Sirius). He'd never woken up alone and wished that instead he'd be awoken by fingers sieving through his hair, or the crashing sounds of a very clumsy human being trying to get dressed.

Since all his friends died or disappeared, Remus didn't imagine he'd ever find new ones, so he hadn't wanted to fall for a girl who needled him to meet her own friends and promised that she knew they'd like him. Who on Earth would believe that their friends would want to be introduced to a werewolf? Remus had never wanted to meet somebody who would want to go out on dates with him. He had never imagined being with a person who would roll her eyes sulkily when he refused to hold hands or kiss her in public. It was impossible that someone would _want_ to be seen doing such a thing with a werewolf. He hadn't ever wanted to be invited to a twenty-three-and-a-half birthday party.

Tonks was everything Remus had never wanted, but when she'd offered all of the above he'd taken them all. Now, he was nearly as amazed by this as he was ashamed. As he watched her sleep in her hospital bed, he wondered what on Earth he'd been thinking over the past few months. Had he been thinking at all?

It was the middle of Summer so still light outside, even though the clock on the wall had tocked round to eight. He should leave. What right did he have to stay? He'd never wanted this, and Tonks shouldn't have either. They'd got unhealthily muddled and entangled. Abruptly, Remus stood up. Time to go. He moved the chair away from Tonks' hospital bed and pushed the chair against the wall. Remus straightened the blanket at the bottom of the bed and crumpled up a crisp packet which Tonks had left on the beside table. There was a vase of flowers on the table too, which Remus turned around so that the side which had been in the sun all day was now facing the bed. Tonks didn't care for flowers, but he reckoned it would be nice for her to see them first thing when she woke up. Remus wanted to kiss her goodbye, but he knew he shouldn't. He had never wanted what she'd put in front of him but he'd taken it anyway. So now what _he_ wanted was not important.

Remus leaned over and squeezed Tonks' hand.

And then he left.


	64. If: Winter

**Warnings for angst, swearing, hate crime and sexual assault.**

If: Winter

December

If they'd have lived, Lupin would have snapped his book shut, dropped it onto the pillow, and walked into the living room.

"Let me take over," he instructed over the sound of the baby wailing.

"It's alright. I'm going to take him for a walk," Tonks would have said. Teddy would still be having trouble sleeping, and she would have been pacing around the flat with him in her arms for what felt like hours.

"Why?" Lupin would've asked.

"Because he's not going to fall asleep in here, is he?"

"Give it another couple of minutes," he suggested.

"That won't work. He's too stressed out in here," Tonks would have insisted, smoothing Teddy's hair as he squirmed unhappily, "I'll shove him in the pram and take him around the block,"

"But it's dark," Lupin pointed out.

She would have groaned. "For God's sake, Remus, get a grip. We'll be fine,"

"I'm not comfortable with you taking him outside when it's dark-"

"We can't keep him locked away forever!" she would have growled, "Do you want him to turn out like Sirius?"

"I don't want to lock him away. I took him to the high street yesterday. I just know that at night there's a greater risk," Lupin would have replied in a maddeningly factually tone.

"It is not night. It's half past seven," Tonks retorted.

"It's dark, and under cover of darkness it'll be easier for-"

 _"Eight months_ have passed! The Ministry _know_ that they've caught all the Death Ea-"

"- not all of them,"

"Yes, because the Malfoys are going to turn up to murder me while I'm pushing a pram down the street," Tonks would've mocked.

A beat. "Please don't say that," Lupin would have answered quietly.

"I'll only be out for ten minutes,"

"I don't-"

"I'm sick of him screaming like this every bloody evening. It's been weeks now, I'm going out of my mind, and I think that that's a greater risk than being on a perfectly safe street for ten minutes, so will you just shut up!" she would have spat.

Another beat would have followed. They'd have starred at each other. Remus would have looked hurt, and Tonks would have grimaced internally for snapping at him. But it was all exhausting, and Remus was making it harder.

"Give him to me," Lupin would have instructed softly.

"Why?"

"Because you're tired and you're losing your temper and that's going to make it worse,"

He knew that she knew it. Teddy was getting stressed, and their arguing was only going to disturb him more.

"I'm losing my temper because you're being difficult," his wife retorted.

Remus's resolve would have cracked. "Will you hand Teddy over because I'll be able to get him to sleep!" he'd have barked. Couldn't she, just once, do what he asked? Was that too much to ask? She knew that he was good at calming Teddy down.

"Wow, thanks for the reminder that you're such a better parent than I am," Tonks would've shot back.

"I didn't say that,"

"You might as well because it's obviously true,"

"I don't want to argue with you. I want to get Teddy to sleep. Let me fix it this time and we can talk about it later," he said, holding his arms out. Glaring at them both, Tonks would have handed Teddy over. She'd have tried not to listen as her husband told the baby to stop fussing and be good.

"I know, I know. I know you're a grumpy boy. Let's have quiet now, shall we?" he'd have muttered, pacing. Lupin wouldn't have admitted it often (and certainly not right now) but in any situation, having Teddy in his arms made him feel better. Teddy seemed to like it too- it was true that Lupin was the best at getting him to sleep, though he felt guilty now at having snapped it out loud at his wife.

Teddy wouldn't have stopped crying, but his bawls would have subsided slightly.

"Good boy. That's nicer, isn't it? Nice and peaceful, good boy," Lupin would have continued. Then he'd have looked up at his wife and offered, "I'll stay with him for now. You go and put your feet up,"

Tonks would have stared at the carpet and not moved.

"Dora?"

"I'm sick of it," she murmured, "I used to think I was lucky that you're such a great dad, but now it's…now I just feel like I'm rubbish at this,"

The first few months, watching Remus and Teddy together had been adorable. They were both crazy about one another, and at first made Tonks feel fortunate and proud. But nowadays it would have been getting infuriating. She'd have started to feel guilty about working so much- had she not been around enough to bond with Teddy properly? But to Tonks it would have felt like they _had_ bonded. She hadn't struggled to connect with him. She'd loved him since before he was born. She was gut-bustingly proud when his hair changed or when he smiled, or when he'd first started sitting up a few weeks ago. When he smiled at her, or reached for her when he was upset, or curled up on her lap, she'd have known that that was his way of showing that he loved her back. But then something like this would happen- more to do with skill than with love. Remus had the skill and she, clearly, didn't.

"You're not rubbish," Lupin would have responded.

"Yeah, I've been telling myself that for weeks but he's making it clear he doesn't agree,"

"It's sleeping he doesn't agree with, not you,"

"But _you_ can always make fall asleep," Tonks would have said glumly.

"Perhaps I bore him to sleep," Lupin suggested.

"And you're better at bottles and getting him in the pushchair and all of that,"

"That's only practical stuff," he shrugged. Teddy would have quietened down enough that Remus would have risked stopping pacing.

"Most of having a baby is practical stuff!" she huffed, "I'm not saying I reckon he's, I dunno, rejecting me. But he knows, like everybody else does, that you're way better at all of this than I am,"

She'd do the poppers on Teddy's clothes up wrong. She found his bottles difficult to navigate, and now he was on solids she kept getting his foods mixed up with each other. Nappy-changes were a minefield. On the occasions when Tonks _did_ manage to send the baby to sleep she'd end up trapped with him on her chest, which was cute for a bit but inconvenient when she had stuff she needed to get done. She loved Teddy more than anything, though she didn't love being a mother.

That would have put Lupin on the defensive. "What do you mean everybody knows? Nobody's said that, have they?"

Tonks would have elected not to sulkily point out that he had literally just said it then. "Not out loud,"

"And even if they did, when do you ever care what anybody thinks?"

Tonks would have known that her husband meant this to be kind because he was trying to make her smile. But it wouldn't have worked because there was a difference between "anybody" and her _family:_ "I care what you and him think,"

Lupin would have sat down on the bed and gestured for her to follow which, hesitantly, Tonks would have done.

"I think that Teddy and I are lucky to have you," he would have murmured, knocking his knee against hers affectionately, "You're doing well enough,"

 _You're doing well enough,_ Tonks would have thought, was a very Remus statement. Partly because it was typical of him to avoid superlative. He rarely used words like _amazing_ or _fantastic._ Tonks knew too, that even if her husband had been prone to words like that, he wouldn't have said them then. He was honest with her, and the truth was she wasn't amazing or fantastic at parenting. _You're doing well enough_ must have been Remus' honest assessment. While that was reassuring, Tonks had never seen herself as the kind of person who'd settle for "enough".

Lupin would have stroked Teddy's hand as the baby's glassy eyes gazed up at him. "Here, he's quiet now. He's sleepy," he would have offered.

"I don't want to wake him," Tonks would have mumbled.

"You won't. Come here,"

He'd have shuffled closer, holding Teddy out to her. Tonks would have noticed that he was using his reassuring Professor Tone.

"Are you sure?"

"That's my line," he'd have corrected. That was an old joke between them- he'd asked it repeatedly when they were first together, "And I believe the correct response is _yes, I am sure,"_

"Actually, it's _yes, of course I am sure you idiot,"_ Tonks would have answered. She'd meant it as response to what he'd said about it being his line, but Lupin would have elected to interpret her words literally, and would have put the baby into Tonks' arms before she had time to stop him.

"See?" he'd have said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, "You are doing well enough,"

Tonks didn't like to see herself as someone who would settle for "enough". But she'd have supposed, it was a start.

* * *

January

Harry would have been sitting on the couch at the Burrow, Teddy on his lap, while Ginny made stars shoot from the end of her wand for the baby to catch. Teddy's pudgy hands would have clapped around the sparkles and he'd have made a little "Ah!" sound, pleased with himself.

"Seeker skills already," Harry would have noted proudly.

"Can't wait 'til we can get him a broom," Ginny corroborated.

"How old does he have to be?"

"I think officially it's five, but I was using Charlie's old one probably before I could walk," Ginny would have shrugged.

Harry would've visualised the photograph of himself as a baby whizzing around on the toy broomstick Sirius had bought for him, and the letter his mother wrote saying how much he liked the toy. Perhaps toy broomsticks were godfatherly presents. Harry didn't know much about being a godfather. Teddy was pretty much the first baby he had ever met, so he was still getting the hang of how to hold him, talk to him and play with him. Despite being the youngest in a large family, Ginny was a natural with babies. She wasn't officially Teddy's godmother, but everybody called her that, and she seemed to know exactly how to connect with him. Harry loved that (he had elected not to mention that there was something quite Mrs Weasley-ish about how good she was with the baby).

"Is Lupin a good flyer?" Ginny would have continued.

"He's okay," Harry shrugged, "He didn't play Quidditch,"

"Not everything revolves around Quidditch," Ginny would have scoffed, impersonating Hermione's voice. She'd have felt slightly guilty about mimicking her friend like that, but it made Harry laugh.

The fireplace would have flared up then, flames abruptly sparking up and licking along the sides. Remus Lupin would have come spinning into the grate.

"Speak of the devil," Harry would have muttered.

Lupin would have slowed to a stop, grabbed the edges of the fireplace to steady himself, and said, "Hello, you two,"

"Hi," Harry would have said.

"Happy New Year," Ginny chirped.

"Happy New Year," Lupin would have echoed, climbing out of the fireplace.

Ginny would have been about to ask if Lupin had had a good time at the party, although she was interrupted by the fire flaring up again, and Tonks clattering into it.

"Wotcher, everyone. Welcome to 1999!"

"Happy New Year," Harry would have greeted, as Ginny got up to hug Tonks hello. Lupin would have stepped over to Harry, and Teddy would have reached his arms up towards his father.

"Look who it is!" Harry would have said to the baby, "It's your daddy,"

Harry would have cringed at himself. He felt like when he spoke to Teddy his voice jumped to the overly-bright pitch of the kids' TV presenters Dudley had used to watch on a Saturday morning.

Lupin would have taken picked up Teddy, hugged him tight, and stamped a kiss on the baby's cheek. He would have been an uncharacteristically tactile parent- Tonks would have doubted if there had ever been baby boy who was so often hugged and kissed by his father as Teddy was by Remus. Over the last few months Lupin would have come marginally more open touching his wife in front of other people. He'd put the occasional hand on her elbow or shoulder, and when she stroked his arm or back, he didn't push her away. Sometimes he called her Dora in front of others, which he'd rarely done before. It would have been different with Teddy- from the start, he wouldn't have cared who could see. Showing that he was attracted to his wife would have felt embarrassing, but loving on Teddy felt natural and beautiful, even if other people were watching.

"Hello, Ted," he would have whispered, "I've missed you,"

Teddy would have spotted Tonks and started wriggling, so Lupin would have passed him over to her.

"Wotcher, mate. Happy New Year," she'd have said, jiggling him, "Were you being good for the Weasleys? Or were you being trouble?"

"He was no trouble," answered Harry.

"Got them all fooled, have you?" she'd have asked Teddy, eyes narrowed. She'd have pretended to throw him onto the sofa, which would have made Teddy squeal excitedly (and was, obviously, totally different to dropping him, which she'd done a few times since he was born).

"We took him up to the paddock to watch the fireworks over the hill," Harry would have continued.

"They were when it got dark, not at midnight," Ginny chipped in.

"Yeah. He went to sleep at- what, Gin? Eight?"

"Closer to nine," Ginny would have shrugged, "But he only woke up a couple of times,"

"Thank you much for having him," Tonks would have said.

"No problem. It's cool. How was your night?" Harry would have asked.

"Awesome," Tonks would have grin.

"Exhausting," Lupin would have sighed at the same time.

"Don't lie, you loved it," Tonks would have needled.

"My recollection of events after midnight is rather hazy," he'd have explained to Harry and Ginny, "I haven't been that drunk in years. My wife's a bad influence on me,"

Tonks had persuaded him to come out with her friends on New Year's Eve. He'd met her mates from school a few times over recent months and, well…they were nice. They were funny and interesting. He enjoyed seeing Tonks laugh and yelp when she was with them. He liked how they played with Teddy. But he had no idea what they made of him. Tonks would have claimed endlessly that they loved him, and Levi wanted to go to the Quidditch with him, and Aisling's brother had a book he'd enjoy so he should go over to borrow it from him. Lupin wouldn't have been convinced by any of this. Tonks was their friend. They'd know each other since they were eleven. He was a werewolf. They'd married quickly, in the middle of a war. Surely her friends were suspicious. At best concerned, and at worst horrified, and Lupin wouldn't have blamed them for that. But Dora was so defensive about him that it was hard to tell exactly what her friends thought about him. He didn't know what she'd told them about him and he didn't want to know either.

"Your wife would also like to point out that she's seen considerably more drunk than that with Sirius," Tonks would have interjected.

"Possibly," Lupin conceded, and everybody laughed.

"Where's everyone else? Never seen it so empty round here?" Tonks would have asked. Teddy would be babbling and waving his arms cheerfully as she held him.

"Mum, Dad, Percy and George have gone for a walk," Ginny explained, "They'll be back soon if you want to hang around. Charlie's still asleep, and Ron and Hermione are either continuing the argument they had last night, or making up from it,"

"How's George doing?" Lupin would have asked.

Harry and Ginny would have looked at each other. "Not great," Harry would have said.

"It was an effort to get him to go for a walk," Ginny would have murmured dejectedly, "He didn't even want to see Teddy, and he usually likes that,"

"It's weird, it being a new year," Harry added. Harry wasn't prepared for a future of freedom, and now he was hurtling towards it. After all that had happened, it would have seemed childish to admit that the idea of an empty future scared him, but it did. Ron and Hermione said that they understood, but fate hadn't weighed on them like it had Harry, so he knew that they didn't really get it. Becoming an Auror wouldn't have felt like much of a choice for him. It was a way to keep doing what he knew: fighting. It was route out of making a decision, rather than a way forward into the future.

"If he ever wants to speak to somebody who wouldn't claim to have experienced anything so horrendous, but who knows what it's like to feel like you're the only one left, remind him that my door is always open," Lupin would have said in a solemn tone.

Ginny would have noticed Tonks look at him adoringly. She didn't like that; it was too similar to the way Fleur gazed at Bill, and Ginny didn't like to consider Tonks and Lupin as remotely similar to Fleur and Bill.

"When are you back to work?" she'd have asked, changing the subject.

"Tomorrow," Tonks would have answered, "Which I fair enough considering I've only been in two days this week, but Merlin's pants I'm dreading it. Gonna miss you, aren't I, mate?" she'd have mumbled into Teddy's ear as he tried to climb up onto her shoulder.

"What about you, Harry?" Lupin would have asked.

"Tuesday,"

Harry would have guilty that Tonks had to go into work even though she had a baby, whereas he'd been given nearly a fortnight's holiday. The Auror department treated him with kid gloves, which was frustrating and humiliating. He wanted to be working as hard as everybody else, but the Ministry would have insisted that they didn't want to overburden him.

"You'll be at home though, right?" Harry clarified with Lupin, hoping to deflect the conversation away from himself.

"Until the trials start, yes," Lupin would have confirmed. The werewolf trials were due to start in the last week of January, and it was likely that Remus would be needed most days. The trials had been looming over him for months, and now he felt half afraid about them, and half desperate to get started so that he could get them over with as soon as possible.

"So these last few weeks, and the next couple until the trials start, will be what it's going to be like long-term," Tonks explained, "Me working in the week and Remus at home on baby duty,"

She'd have been saying that repeatedly recently, to try to get used to the idea that this was going to be their normal. This would be the family life she'd thought about so much over the past year, and that she had known would work itself out if she went ahead with the pregnancy. Except now the damn werewolf trials were going to ruin their normalcy for weeks. Tonks wouldn't have been able to admit out loud that it was bloody typical- the werewolf thing always getting in the way of her and Remus' happy life together.

"Someone here'll be willing to babysit during the trials," Ginny piped up.

"Yeah, your Mum's having him on Wednesday and Thursday for the first week, and- when in the second week, Remus?"

"Wednesday,"

"Right, Wednesday. Anyway, we can talk about it when she gets back. Thanks for having Teddy last night too, that was really kind of you two to give up your new year,"

"Wouldn't have done much anyway," Harry shrugged. Ginny would be going back to school in a few days so he'd much prefer to time spend at home with her. Besides, a new year wouldn't have necessarily seemed like good news. It had felt like truly saying goodbye to the war- goodbye to those who had died. Fred Weasley would never live in 1999. The new year hadn't felt like an occasion to go out and celebrate.

"That's a nice jumper," Ginny would have noted, glancing at the red polo-neck Lupin was wearing.

"Oh. Thank you," he'd have responded, surprised, "It was a Christmas present,"

It would have been from his wife. Anticipating (correctly) that Teddy would be bought hundreds of presents from their friends, his parents had decided to only get him a few gifts. That seemed a bit mean to Lupin, though Andromeda assured him that on Christmas morning Teddy would be swimming in rattles, balls and cuddly toys. That had left Tonks and Lupin with an unexpected amount of money to spend on presents for each other. Tonks would have given him a load of new shirts, jeans and jumpers (surprisingly, she'd bought him the type of clothes Remus would actually choose for himself, not the sort of clothes he'd expect her to choose for him).

Nobody had complimented Lupin on this clothes for years. He didn't entirely know how to respond and he didn't want to start a conversation about it though, so he'd have shot a warning glance at his wife to communicate that she wasn't to elaborate. He'd have been embarrassed a few days earlier, when they'd been visited the Burrow on Boxing Day and he'd been doing the washing-up with Hermione, and she'd asked him why he was wearing a wedding ring now. Lupin had winced, knowing that he should have anticipated that Hermione would notice that. He'd have explained in a mutter that it was a Christmas present. Hermione had mused that that was a nice present for Tonks to have bought him, and Lupin hadn't corrected her. The truth was that it was actually his present _to_ his wife. When they'd got married, Lupin had dismissed the need for a wedding band for himself, but after he'd left and come back Dora had brought it up as a sign that he hadn't taken their wedding seriously, and that he thought their marriage was disposable. It'd barely been mentioned since, but the hurt on Tonks' face then would had stuck with Remus. It was odd to buy a present for somebody else which he'd be wearing all the time, so the ring would have been a cheap one from Marks and Spencer. Lupin knew that that wasn't the point- the symbolism was what mattered to her.

Back in the living room on New Year's Day, Lupin would have been relieved that Ginny Weasley was not the sort of girl to notice jewellery. Tonks would have taken the hint from Lupin's expression that he didn't want to discuss his new jumper further, and would have busied herself making faces at Teddy.

"Don't tell Mum someone _else_ has been getting you jumpers or she'll start dithering that she hasn't made you one year," Ginny warned.

"Yeah, what's that all about? She made Teddy about five and none for us!" Tonks would have protested jokingly.

"That's them coming across the hill now," Harry would have interjected, craning to look through the window.

Tonks would have leaned over too. She'd have seen the three tall Weasley men, short plump Molly beside them, and two more figures walking next to her. "Who's that with them?"

"Dunno," Harry would have shrugged, "Gin, c'mere and see,"

He'd have taken his glasses off and rubbed them clean on the fabric of his shirt, as Ginny stood up to go over to the window.

"That man and girl both wearing lime green and walking towards our house with our parents? I suspect that might _possibly_ be the Lovegoods," she teased.

"Cool," Harry would have shrugged.

"Luna Lovegood?" gasped Tonks, "I've wanted to meet her for ages! You all talk about her all the time!"

"You _have_ met her," her husband would have pointed out.

He would have avoided specifying that they have met Luna Lovegood fighting at the Ministry, and at Hogwarts last Summer and the Summer before. And in the weeks following the Battle of Hogwarts they'd met at multiple funerals.

"Not properly," Tonks would have corrected, "Haven't got to have a proper chat with each other and find out if she's as bonkers as you all say,"

"Good bonkers," Harry insisted hurriedly.

Tonks laughed. "Is there any other kind?"

"Remember when she stood up in Defence and told you that Cornish Pixies were actually a trick of the light?" Ginny would have said to Lupin, "She _literally_ thought they were a figment of our collective imagination,"

"And that was hardly the strangest comment she came up with," Lupin would have added.

"See? She sounds awesome,"

"Well, they're getting towards the garden now," Harry would have warned, "So you're about to find out….".

* * *

February

First, it would have been hate mail. It started arriving in Tonks' Ministry pigeon-hole once a week or so. All letters and parcels to the Ministry were tested for dangerous curses, though not for content. Especially nowadays, when any information was deemed useful. The stuff that turned up in Tonks' pigeon-hole wasn't dangerous- it would have seemed random to anybody else. A packet of dog biscuits. A patch of grey fur with blood streaked in it. Crudely detailed cartoons of a girl and a werewolf fucking. Sometimes the girl in the cartoon was drawn as frightened and in pain. Sometimes she was smiling. Always, she had pink hair.

One week a thick black collar arrived, and the following week a smaller one arrived, with a note: _For the little mutt._ That would have been the only one which would have upset her. The others would have hurt, and would have made her angry, but bringing Teddy into it would have made Tonks want to rip someone's throat out. She'd have thought of Mad-Eye barking at her to keep her head, keep focused. Tonks would have shoved the collar and the note into the back of the bottom drawer of her desk, but she could still it in her mind's eye. _For the little mutt._ It would have played on her mind so much that she didn't finish her work on time, so was home late. Tonks would have dumped her bag on the living room floor and gone straight to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. Remus would have been feeding Teddy his tea, but she'd have ignored them both, facing at the wall as she tried not to cry. It wasn't fair, _it wasn't fair._ Their son was funny, lively and intelligent. He wasn't a werewolf and he wasn't dangerous, and they'd had three years of war to stop people believing that kind of bullshit. Had it been enough? Was this what Teddy's life was going to be like? Had the Remus of two Summers ago been right, had bringing his baby into the world been an act of selfishness and vanity, with no thought to the life of the child? Was this hate going to follow them always?

"Are you alright?" Lupin would have asked.

"Yeah. Fine,"

"No, Teddy- tea first and then Mummy cuddles," Remus would have told Teddy, who was squeaking excitedly. They were both chuckling, which would have made Tonks feel worse.

Lupin would have known something was wrong right away. Usually his wife wanted to fuss over the baby the moment she came home.

"Dora?"

"I told you, I'm fine," she'd have snapped, and burst into tears.

Lupin would have sprung out of his seat and stepped over to her. "Has something happened?"

"No,"

"Can I-?" he offered, reaching out to touch her.

Part of Tonks would have wanted to let him, to curl up with her husband and baby and hide from the world. Remus made her feel protected and safe. But being with Lupin would have reminded her of what people thought and said about him, and that bastard who'd sent her the hate mail. And it would have made her want to tell him, and Tonks would have known that telling him was out of the question. Lupin have been calmer and more contented over the last few months than Tonks had ever seen him. A weight was off his shoulders now the war was over. He was getting healthier and less scrawny. And he was the world's best daddy. Remus had once told her once that it wasn't her responsibility to fix him, but Tonks liked to believe that the baby was going a little way to. How thought Teddy was the most wonderful person in the universe- and if Remus had made someone so precious, then how could he believe himself disgusting and dirty and all those awful things? Tonks hadn't broached the subject with him, but at times she thought that that was what was in his head. So she couldn't tell him about the collar and the cartoons and the dog biscuits, because it would send him back to being how he was before- _I'm too dangerous, you shouldn't be involved with me, I'll make you an outcast, marrying me will put you in danger, we can't possibly have a baby because of me._ The werewolf trials had made him a little fragile lately, and this would send him over the edge into panic and guilt and misery.

"I wanna be on my own," Tonks would have mumbled. _For the little mutt. For the little mutt._ He wasn't a dog, he wasn't an animal and he was not a werewolf. Even if he was, werewolves were people, just people who got ill. But that wasn't what the trials were making them seem like. The werewolves on trial barely wanted to be human- they were all that public had always believed about werewolves, but worse.

Tonks topped up the glass. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her husband's face flicker with concern and she realised that arriving home in unexplained tears and immediately hitting the bottle might be worrying. Fabulous, now her husband thought she was a secret alcoholic.

He wouldn't have said that. He'd have answered: "I understand. Just tell me if there's anything I can do to help or make it better,"

Tonks would have supposed that she was lucky she had a husband who knew about wanting to keep emotions close to the chest. He'd have been using his Professor Tone again. It sometimes infuriated her, although now she thought how understanding and patient he was. She was still getting the hang of not to pestering him about stuff he didn't want to talk about it, and she still put her foot in it all the time.

"There's nothing,"

What was she supposed to say- not be a werewolf? That's all he'd ever wanted, and she'd been the one always telling him that it didn't matter. She'd thought she could never be ashamed of Remus or of Teddy, but surely this feeling was shame. Surely now she was letting it matter. She was ashamed that she didn't want to look at her husband for fear that she'd blurt out the truth about the messages coming in the post. And then Tonks felt more ashamed that the messages had that power over her.

From the corner of her eye, she'd have seen her husband's expression flicker with disappointment. When he spoke, however, his tone would have been achingly gentle: "Alright. I'll be here if you need me,"

Tonks would have sloped off to the bedroom, shoved her headphones on and plugged them into her battered Muggle cassette player. She turned the volume up to maximum and shut her eyes. When Remus put Teddy to bed in his cot half an hour later, she pretended to be asleep, although she knew that her wet tears were a giveaway.

A couple of weeks later, she'd have been walking down Diagon Alley when a female voice had snarled, "Were-bitch," at her and howled. It would have happened so fast Tonks would have barely registered it, so she didn't have time to react. But not long after that, she'd have been in the queue at Dervish and Banges with Savage, when a figure would have shoved her against the wall and groped her bum and chest, his breath heavy in her ear. He'd reckoned without meeting two Aurors though, and within a couple of moments he was disarmed and in handcuffs. They'd given him a night in the cells for that. It had been humiliating and inconvenient, but not upsetting until they were handing him over to the guards in the Ministry cells, and the man had yelled after them down the corridor.

"Thought you'd enjoy it, love! So gagging for it that you'd fuck a werewolf!"

Savage would have glanced at Tonks out of the corner of her eye.

"Wanker," Tonks would've scoffed, pretending she didn't care. Then she would have gone upstairs to the toilets, and kicked the wall again and again, so hard that the dryer fell off the wall.

She wouldn't have told Remus that today she'd tried to surprise him by meeting him outside the courtroom and taking him to lunch. Before he emerged from the courtroom though, a couple of journalists would have wandered out, chatting. Tonks wouldn't have told Lupin that she'd heard have part of the journalists' conversation:

"- proved that it's clear they're a risk to everybody, and the register doesn't make a difference," one of the hacks said to the other.

"I don't suppose you could argue to have them euthanised because they're registered as Being as well as Beast. Locked away though, certainly," his colleague replied.

"That'll make it worse! Hoards of the pervy old brutes locked up together- it'll make them more dangerous,"

"They're dangerous enough! Imprisonment's safer than letting them all wander about unregistered, free to steal our food and attack our children!"

"They haven't mentioned children much yet, have they? Maybe they don't want to name the Muggle kids involved?" mused the female journalist.

"Whatever it is, it's going to be horrific, isn't it? Probably unimaginable what the bastards do when they get their hands on kiddie flesh-"

Tonks wouldn't have heard any more, because she would have turned around and punched the journalist in the face. He'd have recoiled and she'd have managed to quickly change her face and hair, and slip away. She'd legged it back up to the office, abandoning the taking-Remus-for-lunch plan. It wouldn't have gone unnoticed though, because later that afternoon she'd have been summoned to Kingsley's office. Tonks traipsed down to the Minister's department, one-quarter nervous and three-quarters defiant. When she reached Kingsley's office door, she'd have considered barging in but resisted the temptation, and knocked on the door.

"Come in," summoned Kingsley's deep, reassuring voice.

Tonks would have morphed her hair into a fringe- useful protection in case she unexpectedly burst into tears- and pushed open the door.

"A personal meeting with the Minister, I'm honoured," she'd have sneered. Kingsley would have been so busy over the last few months that the Order had rarely seen him.

"Take a seat," he'd have instructed, ignoring her hostile tone. Kingsley's wouldn't have had time to bother arguing. He needed to tell her to keep her temper around hacks over the next couple of weeks and stop being so defensive about Remus. Surely, Kingsley would have thought, Tonks knew that she wasn't doing her husband any favours. Lupin had never been the sort to want someone else to fight his battles for him.

Tonks would have stayed standing, and folded her arms.

"I want to get this over with," Kingsley would have sighed, "I'm not going to give you a formal disciplinary notice, though you can take this as a warning,"

"I'm supposed to be grateful for that, am I? If I was anybody else you'd give me a disciplinary or give me the sack. We all know you're not going to get rid of me,"

"No, I'm not," Kingsley acknowledged, "But I don't appreciate you attacking journalists,"

Wasn't there a mention of that in Auror training? If not, certainly in the contract. But HR paperwork would have been the last of Kingsley's concerns then.

"But he said-"

"I can imagine what he said," Kingsley answered calmly. He wondered why Tonks wasn't used to this by now.

"And you're one of the reasons why he can say that kind of crap, 'cos you've done nothing," she would have shot back, "Remus still can't get a job, he can't get Wolfsbane, he can't do anything he couldn't do a year ago, because you're so obsessed with your bloody trials that you don't care about helping people who need it,"

Kingsley would have remained infuriatingly placid. "As an officer magical law enforcement, you know that fair, public trials are a necessary stage in rebuilding our society,"

"As Minister for Magic, you know fuck all about how many rolls of bandages I have at home because it's the full moon next week. It's like you don't even care about us anymore," she spat. Tonks would have known that this accusation was unfair, but often it felt true. It wasn't as if she expected Kingsley to be round for dinner every night, but she hadn't anticipated him becoming as detached form the Order as he'd become.

"I care about you both very much, but I can't do anything until the trials are out of the way," Kingsley would have re-iterated. He had overseen the first Death Eater trials, and the enquiry into what had happened at Hogwarts over the last year of the war. The legal process was tedious and lengthy, but it was the most important task he could undertake for their society. He was going to get this right. His money and his popularity didn't matter as long as he completed the legal proceedings which would convict and punish the guilty, and exonerate the wrongly accused. Justice and freedom were vital. Having Nymphadora Tonks' favour was not.

"Don't act like your hands are tied, you're the person whose demanding all this legal bullshit,"

"Trials that are public and fair are-"

"Necessary to rebuilding wizarding society, I know. And don't you think that telling people that werewolves aren't all dangerous, that they're normal people- don't you think that's necessary to rebuilding wizarding society?" she charged him.

"Yes. I do. Once the trials are over, Regulation of Magical Creatures will be one of my first concerns," Kingsley would have promised, "You have my word,"

Tonks wouldn't have known what to say to that. She unfolded her arms and shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. "Can I go now?"

The snarled question would have made her sound like a surly teenager, but she wouldn't have cared.

"Yes," Kingsley nodded, relieved. He had work to be getting on with. Not for the first time, he'd have wished Mad-Eye was here to keep Tonks in line.

Kingsley moved a stack of papers around on his desk. Tonks would have watched him for a few moments, then blurted:

"Kingsley?"

He'd have glanced up. "Yes?"

"Can you not tell Remus about this?"

She'd have hated herself then. For sounding like a kid pleading with a teacher not to write home about a detention. For mouthing off at Kingsley then begging him for a favour. For sounding as if she was scared about Remus finding out, or worried, or something like that, when really it was none of those. It was just that her husband had got enough on his plate and she wouldn't have wanted to argue with him about this. She wouldn't have wanted repeat that the journalist said, because then she'd have to tell Remus about everything- the fur and the dog biscuits and the collars that arrive on her desk, the man in Dervish and Banges. And that would shatter him.

Tonks would have wished that Mad-Eye was here. It would have been easier to talk to Mad-Eye than to Kingsley about this. Mad-Eye had almost always been telling her off for something or other, so this dressing-down wouldn't have felt so humiliating with him. Mad-Eye would have had an obscure contact who could cobble together Wolfsbane to keep Remus safe. But Mad-Eye was dead, and that made her want to start kicking the walls again. Kingsley's desk was in an excellent position to be shoved over, and there were pages all over it which she could chuck about and tear. Life after the war was so hard. Greif and fatigue and effort and stress and boredom, and why couldn't strangers _leave her the fuck alone,_ let her have a happy life with her beautiful husband and lovely baby, because Remus and Teddy were stressful enough without all this as well.

Tonks would have felt even worse when Kingsley smiled kindly and answered in an understanding tone:

"No. Of course I won't".


	65. exwyezed

exwyezed

The flames whip around her, and then she's spinning out of the fireplace into the dark, and then out into the hearth of Remus' cramped living room. Tonks grabs the sides of the fireplace to steady herself. She's always found Flooing disorientating.

"Hello," Remus chirps, standing up from the sofa. Tonks' stomach flutters at the sight of him, then flutters harder at how pleased he looks that she's here.

"Mmm, am I glad to see you," she sighs, and she means it literally- just seeing Remus' face can cheer her up. Knowing that she's going to be with him for a while. Even when they're at Grimmauld and can't hold hands or snog or cuddle, it's still a relief to know that they'll be together and she'll be able to talk to him. Talking to him makes her happier than anything. As usual, he holds out his hand to help her out of the fireplace, and as usual, Tonks ignores it.

"Difficult couple of days?" Remus asks. Tonks slings her rucksack onto the floor.

"You can say that again," she sighs, climbing out of the fireplace and into his arms. Remus is _the best_ hugger. His embrace is cosy and solid. He smells great, and she likes to press her press her face into his chest or against his neck to hear the timbre of his voice.

He isn't a pusher, so he doesn't ask any further, but she wants to tell him. "I've done three days of waking up at four with the Muggle bodyguards, checking the Muggle security, escorting the ambassadors to the meeting for eight, waiting ten hours outside, then escorting everybody home, _and then_ writing up a three-roll report for the Ministry about the nothing which happened,"

"Sounds a lot. How are peace talks going?"

"Dunno, couldn't hear what was happening inside and you can't exactly whip out an extendable ear when you're surrounded by Muggle bodyguards and hacks,"

"I suppose not," he agrees.

Tonks exhales into his shoulder and presses a kiss to his cheek. "Missed you,"

"I missed you, too,"

One of Fudge's tactics to divert Ministry personnel and public interest away from You-Know-Who's return, is to direct focus, money and staff at the Northern Ireland Peace Process. British cabinet members, ambassadors and notable politicians have always protection from the Ministry, although until recently that was always the role of the Magic-Muggle Relations Department. A few months ago, however, Fudge announced that the politicians attending the Northern Ireland Peace Process talks would be transferred to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and that the role of Ministry bodyguards would now be undertaken by Aurors. Therefore, whenever a meeting is scheduled regarding the Peace Process, a couple of Aurors are dispatched to Belfast to protect all attendees. There's no doubt that it's important work, though it's been handled competently by Magic-Muggle Relations for the last few years, and it's pointless that it's been transferred to Aurors, especially as the Death Eater threat becomes increasingly serious.

Given how busy they both are, Tonks is used to going a few days or even more than a week without seeing Remus. The long, tedious the Belfast assignments, though, make her exhausted and bored and liable to sway into daydreams about him. His face, his eyes, his mouth, his conversation, his chuckle, the words he uses and the stories he tells, the things which interest him and his way of seeing the world.

"I've got a pie in the oven," he murmurs. Tonks resists the temptation to giggle at how much of an innuendo that sounds (he won't get it).

"What type?"

"Steak and kidney. Do you want it?"

"Nah, not right now. You eat if you're hungry. I had about four thousand croissants for breakfast at the hotel,"

"So it wasn't a completely awful trip, then?" says Remus, moving away to smile down at her.

"I suppose not when you put it like that," Tonks can't help but beam back at him. Then she remembers something, "By the way, there was a WH Smiths across the street and I saw this,"

She reaches for her bag and pulls out a book.

"That's nice," Remus replies.

Tonks doesn't think he's understood her properly. "It's for you," she elaborates, holding the book out.

Remus stares at her, and then down at the book.

"It's a present," Tonks clarifies, "It's the new John Grisham- you like him, don't you?"

"Yes," he murmurs, "But why?"

He smiles again although it's rather wan, and then his eyes flash with bewilderment, almost shock. Nobody had been this kind to him for a long time, she realises.

Remus shakes his head as if clearing water from his ears, "Thank you very much, this is very kind of you,"

"You sure you're okay?" Tonks asks. Remus is odd, but he's being extra odd now.

He forces another grin. "Yes. Thank you. Let's sit down,"

She nods, and lets Remus hold her hand and lead her over to the sofa. He sits down and Tonks nestles against him, leaning her head against his chest. Remus rests his chin on top of her head and wraps an arm around her shoulder.

"Tell me a story," she asks.

Remus presses his mouth to her hair. "About what?"

"Anything. Do one of your lessons,"

She likes him to talk her through one of the Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons he taught at Hogwarts. That's the only way of saying it, although it sounds infuriatingly like she's got a teacher/pupil fetish. It isn't like that. She likes Remus teaching her stuff because he's good at it. Tonks has nagged Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys to tell her about what kind of teacher Remus was (to the extent that Ginny's got suspicious. Tonks has considered, on occasion, telling Ginny about herself and Remus. Ginny's a mate, and she knows and likes Remus, and she's told Tonks all of _her_ relationship drama. But that's a Hogwarts romance, and Ginny's only fourteen, and her boyfriend trouble extends to Michael being whiney about Quidditch and Harry Potter still making her heart skip. Ginny's pretty mature, but not enough to understand what it's like to date a chronically ill older man with no job and no money, and who society believes to be a brute. Sometimes Tonks isn't sure if she's mature enough to deal with it herself). The kids all agree that Remus was a brilliant teacher; Ron says he was "cool" and Harry, awkward as he is, admitted than Remus helped him a lot. Even the twins admit that "he wasn't bad, as teachers go", although George had pointed out that their third-year Defence teacher had had Voldemort stuck to the back of his head, so the bar wasn't set high.

Tonks likes imagining Remus in the Defence classroom at Hogwarts, capable and confident. She likes imagining him in the Defence office (which she'd visited many times as a pupil, getting told off for one misdemeanour or another), sleeves rolled up and wrists flecked with ink as he marked essays.

"I thought you said you were tired. One of my lessons will send you to sleep," Remus says. His self-deprecation can be infuriating, especially as it's hard to tell if he's being serious or not.

"It won't," Tonks insists.

"How about we sit quietly," he suggests. Tonks wants to respond that that "sit" and "quietly" are two of the dullest words in the English language. But Remus often prefers peace and stillness, and honestly she _is_ shattered.

"Let's cwtch," Remus adds. She knows that he knows that'll win her over- "cwtch" is such a cute, daft word. A couple of times Tonks has persuaded him to teach her Welsh. The vowels are ridiculous, bamboozling and hilarious.

"Fine," she sighs theatrically, and shifts to snuggle against his shoulder. Despite Molly's best efforts, he's bony. But because it's _Remus'_ boniness, it's comfortable and cosy.

He wraps his arm around Tonks' shoulder, and kisses the crown of her head again. She moves her arm up to his chest and strokes her palm across his shirt buttons.

"I really did miss you, Tonks," he adds.

She exhales contentedly. "I know".

* * *

She can feel his shoulder digging into her cheek even before she opens her eyes. _Bugger._ She's fallen asleep. On the sofa, on Remus. Tonks grimaces. This is going to spook him. They haven't done anything like this yet, and she knows that for Remus this is a big step. She's been to his cottage many times, but never upstairs. She hasn't been inside his bedroom at Grimmauld Place. Tonks is familiar enough with Remus' wariness to know that this will rattle and baffle him. She cringes at herself for not being more self-conscious- she's kept promising Remus that whatever he wants is fine, that however slow he wants to take this is okay with her, and that she'll never ask him to do anything he doesn't want to. And now she's scuppered that by nodding off on his shoulder. It'd be normal for most blokes, but for Remus it'll seem momentous, potentially invasive.

Tonks lifts an eye open. She's going to have to act like this isn't a big deal. Remus will go all _"Are you sure? You know what I am, don't you?"_ and she'll have to insist that yes she is sure, yes he has mentioned once or twice or constantly that he's a werewolf, and yes, she still wants to snuggle up and fall asleep with him regardless. If she moves her head, Tonks predicts, she'll see him staring at her in shock, perhaps horror.

Better get it over with.

But when she shifts her cheek off his shoulder and looks directly at him, Remus isn't staring at her at all. He's gazing at the front cover of the book, which is resting face-up on his lap. His long fingers are lightly touching the spine, and he seems lost in thought.

Well. This is unexpected.

"Hi," Tonks says hoarsely.

Remus' eyes flick across to her, then back to the book. "Why did you get this?" he whispers.

"What?"

"Why did you buy me this book?"

"Because you told me like John Grisham. It was only half-price," Tonks says, although it feels more like an excuse than an answer. She feels embarrassed at the fact that Remus is acting like she's given him a thousand galleons, when all she's given him in a detective novel.

He exhales pensively. Then he looks directly at her. "Tonks. Why are you so nice to me?"

"Because I'm in love with you, you moron,"

In a book or a movie, she would then clap her hands over her mouth for coming out with that so brazenly and unexpectedly. Although in reality, Tonks doesn't feel any panic or humiliation. Firstly, because she's said it before but only indirectly, or to a roomful of people of which Remus happens to be in. Second, because it's the truth. She's been in love with him for ages, probably weeks longer than she'd like to admit. Saying it out loud doesn't feel momentous. Remus is equal parts emotional intelligence and relationship cluelessness, so Tonks isn't sure how much of her feelings for him he's worked out, or at least admitted to himself. He's good at denial. He nods reflectively and stares back down at the book, and Tonks reminds herself that he's also good at surprising her. She's just told him she's in love with him, and instead he's still focussed on the fact that she got him a present. That's weird good, she reckons. Saying _I love you_ didn't feel like a big deal to her, and it seems that it isn't to Remus either.

"Thank you," he mumbles, and Tonks isn't sure what he means for.

She pecks his cheek. "You're so bizarre,"

And then he looks away from the book and at her, grinning. "Am I meant to say 'thank you' for that as well?"

"Of course,"

"Alright. Thank you for calling me bizarre,"

"Any time. Anyway," Tonks continues, realising that only spoke to him for about half a minute before nodding off, "What have you been up to?"

Remus leans back against the sofa cushions. "Department of Mysteries on Monday and Tuesday nights. I spent Tuesday with Sirius trawling through those photos Dumbledore's got him doing. I had a day off on Wednesday so I sorted some things out here. Yesterday I helped Dedalus out with the Gibbon stuff. So overall, not much,"

"How's Sirius?"

"He's perked up the last few days. We found his photographs from our graduation- no practical use to anybody, but he enjoyed looking through it,"

"Did you?"

Remus considers. "I have an album of similar photographs at home, and it's been long enough now that pictures of James and Lily don't upset me. Quite the opposite. Although seeing photos of myself looking young is always jarring,"

Tonks knows that he knows she hates it when he goes on about how old he is. The way he talks is as if he's just turned eight-six, not thirty-six. Usually she manages to have patience with Remus' odd, detached ways, but bringing up the age thing irritates her.

She elbows him in the ribs. "If you're just saying that so I tell you that you don't look old, it won't work,"

"Sorry. In answer to your question, then, I did enjoy looking through Sirius' photo album," he replies.

"Good. I'll try go come over to see him tomorrow morning. He hates it when we talk about him like this, doesn't he, like he's in hospital,"

"Sirius hates many things," Remus points out.

"You're such a diplomat," she says, and yawns. She's got work in the morning so she'll have to head to bed soon. She wants Remus to ask her to come upstairs with him. Just to sleep- he's not ready for anything more than that, and that's fine. She's too knackered to want anything else apart from falling asleep with him. But Tonks knows that he isn't going to do that, so she'll have to head home.

Tonks is still vaguely trying to find a way to make going out on dates seem less horrifying to Remus, but evenings like this show why, actually, they might be better off staying in. For a start, Remus is more relaxed at home. Perhaps if she'd told him she loved him at a bar or a restaurant he'd have been spooked, but on his own sofa in his own cottage it didn't feel so alarming. For another, you can't fall asleep on your boyfriend in the pub. And for a third, hanging round at home is preferable to dragging herself out to a restaurant when she's this exhausted. Like dealing with Sirius, and the Northern Ireland Peace Process, and like having to traipse over to Belfast for it, this relationship is a question of compromise.


	66. Another Wedding

**I know I've got the final instalment of _If_ to publish. I promise it's coming soon. But given everything that's happening at the moment, I thought you fabulous readers might appreciate some hopeful fluffiness. Enjoy.**

Another Wedding

It is quiet. He likes the quiet. He's lying on his back in the tepee's hessian carpet, concentrating on his breathing. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. He doesn't feel nervous about later. It's only a few words to perform, and they've planned the day to be fun and informal. Hence the tepee. Nobody will mind if he fluffs his words. They'll probably roar with good-natured laughter.

It isn't as if the commitment's changing either. He's been with Vic for twenty years so the "forever" aspect of getting married, the _til death do us part_ part isn't anything Teddy doesn't feel about her already. The wedding is an excuse for a party and a big family get-together. It won't change who they are.

He wants a cigarette. Just quickly. Just one. Teddy wouldn't call himself a smoker; he has a fag once in a while to relax, and right now he feels relaxed and content and in want of a sneaky cig. Vic, knowing him like she does, might have snuck a packet into their luggage. The girls will throw a fit if they found them, Teddy thinks wryly. _"But, Papa, you're a healer!", "Papa, do you know that these_ kill _you?" "Does Auntie Hermione know?!"_. Teddy chuckles, wondering what the girls would say if he confessed that it was their Uncle Ron who'd given him his first cigarette.

Vic's taken the girls out for a walk before they all get ready. Because it's July and because they didn't want a formal wedding, they're getting married in the orchard a few miles from Harry and Ginny's house. Teddy, Vic and the girls slept in the tepee last night, all bundled together on the same bed. They'll do the same tonight- Teddy and Vic figured that their marriage was about the whole family, not just them as a couple, and Vic insisted that the idea of a traditional wedding night was patriarchal nonsense. Teddy hopes that the girls don't get into a squabble, or get hyper on sweets and keep him and Victoire awake and irritated all night.

His girls. Madeleine and Coco. Maddy is bright, inquisitive and gregarious. Coco is thoughtful, a daydreamer, and obsessed with Briony Broomstick comics. They get on well enough, better than Vic and Domonique got on when they were that age, although after an exciting day and a stomach full of Fizzing Whizbees they might become tetchy and tantrum-y. Teddy used to think of Madeleine and Coco as his _little_ girls, although that's becoming less and less true now, especially for Maddy. She'll be twelve in September and Teddy knows she's going to be tall. She doesn't look much like her Maman in most ways, although she's inherited Vic's height. Teddy's messed about with his height so much that he isn't sure how tall he is naturally, but the height he usually chooses is only a couple inches taller than Vic, who has the longest legs of any woman on the planet. Teddy smirks again, remembering what her legs feel like hooked around his hips, draped over his shoulders, wrapped around his neck. He and Vic used to be crazy in bed together, absolutely crazy. They couldn't get enough of each other. On top of having willowy legs, exquisite features and a killer figure, Victoire was also remarkably flexible. Being a Metamorphmagus means that Teddy can grow or shrink, which can have the same effect as Vic's bendiness. The stuff they used to get up to was insane. They could go whole weekends without leaving their bedroom. Though they weren't confined to the bedroom- Teddy doubts that there's a surface in their old flat in Ealing that they didn't make love against. Sex was thrilling and loud and messy and adventurous. Sometimes it would be a meaningful moment of deep and powerful connection, and sometimes it would be a chance to blow off steam and have fun together. Even angry sex was fun (although Vic's always been better at anger than he has). Their first ten years together was like that; passion and holidays and careers and sex and adventures. The last decade-and-a-bit since Maddy was born have been children and organisation and bills and compromise. Ardour has given way to familiarity. Their love has mutated into something no less warm but rather less hot. The romance is routine. They still make love and it's still fantastic, though it's much less frequent than it used to be. Sometimes Teddy will suddenly realise that they haven't been intimate in over a month, and then he'll remember that he's working late the next two nights, and Vic's visiting her parents the evening after, and Coco's got a cold so will want to sleep in their bed anyway. Sometimes, if they've both been busy with work and the kids and haven't manged to have a proper catch-up, or even much of a chat for a few weeks, they'll squeeze in a hasty twenty minutes of sex. Teddy likes that- it's a quick way of connecting, showing how much they mean to each other, and proving that they're a _couple_ , not just two adults in a child-raising arrangement. Their honeymoon is booked for September (they've delayed it so they can spend as much time with Maddy as they can over the next few weeks before she goes away to school) so they'll have longer to spend together then. Perhaps they can rediscover the insatiability of their twenties, or at least enjoy taking their time together and not having to rush for fear of interruption. Teddy thinks again of Vic's legs over his shoulders, and her breath in his ear, and how it feels when-

"Hello,"

Teddy's eyes snap open. That was Granny's voice.

"Teddy?"

"I'm here," he calls back, pushing himself off the floor.

"May I enter?"

That's one of Granny expressions. Teddy isn't sure if avoiding the usual _can I come in?_ is because she's trying to sound dramatic or because she's trying to sound posh.

"Yes,"

Andromeda Tonks walks into the tepee. At eighty-six she is angular, hard of hearing and twisted with arthritis. She carries an air of grand authority and Teddy's younger nephews and nieces are scared of her.

"And will you be wearing your pyjamas to your wedding?" Granny smiles, looking down at him. Teddy hasn't got dressed yet and is still wearing his green cheque pyjama bottoms, and the matching shirt unbuttoned to his waist.

"I'll get changed in a bit," he explains, "Vic's taken the girls out for a run round,"

"How did they sleep?"

"Coco was out like a light, Maddy said she was too excited,"

He lifts his head off the hessian, noting Granny glance disapprovingly at the tattoos on his torso. Teddy isn't sure when the last time she saw him shirtless was- perhaps she hasn't seen the most recent ones. He got his latest tattoo when he turned forty a couple of years ago. It's a pair of incisors to represent getting long in the tooth. Teddy considered getting one to represent their wedding, although he doesn't have any ideas at the moment. Contrary to what Granny and Mrs Weasley say, he doesn't just get them for the sake of it (when Teddy was twenty he got a tattoo of the Andromeda galaxy on his bicep. It was his way of showing Granny how much he loved her and how grateful he was for everything she'd done for him. When he'd shown it to her, Granny said it was the silliest thing she had ever seen).

"Bless them," she smiles, then draws herself up to her full height (barely five foot nowadays) and announces, "Once again I come as an envoy from your parents,"

Teddy sits up.

"As you know, neither they nor I had the preparation you've had for today, so forgive me if I am flying my broom blindfolded," she says. Granny and Grandad eloped, and Mum and Dad had a tiny shotwand wedding.

"Some people might consider it _too much_ preparation. It seems we go one way or the other in our family," Granny continues. Teddy and Vic get a few raised eyebrows about having children without being married. It happens more in the wizarding world than when with Teddy's Muggle side of the family. Wizards are more old-fashioned in that way, and it frustrates the girls when somebody asks, " _If your parents aren't married, are they divorced?"_ or, " _So is he your real father?"._ Most people who know Vic and Teddy don't care, or if they did it's been long enough for them to be over it by now. Teddy's sure that Mum and Dad would have understood. There didn't seem any need for him and Vic to get married when they were younger, and perhaps there was some intentional rebelliousness in that decision, too. Then they got busy with work, and then the girls came along and neither Teddy nor Victoire wanted to have a wedding with a tiny baby or a bawling toddler in tow. They've waited until their girls are old enough to understand and appreciate today.

Granny isn't finished. "I've told you many times that your mother didn't have a lot of time for Fleur Weasley. I imagine she'd be relieved that you've managed to keep her from interfering too much," she says, then reconsiders, "Although knowing Nymphadora she'd have some sort of ridiculous idea for this wedding. Well. Perhaps she'd have grown out of that by now,"

One of the hard parts about having parents who died when you were a baby was that they were stuck being the age they died. Dad's only ever thirty-eight, Mum's twenty-five at most. Teddy's forty-two now, way older than Mum was when she died. But in everybody's memories, the oldest Mum is is twenty-five, and she's exuberant and excitable and nervous about being a parent, stuff she probably wouldn't be now. When Teddy looks back now at himself at twenty-five he sees an irritating, self-doubting man. He wouldn't want to be remembered that way, so he feels sorry for Mum that she is.

"I didn't know you father as well, of course, although I suspect he would either be outside playing with the girls or here attempting to give you a better pep talk than I am. You keep saying your wedding is to celebrate your family, and that would have touched Remus greatly. As you know, he didn't expect he would ever have a family,"

People say that to Teddy a lot. He supposes that they mean it to be kind, although in reality it makes him feel disconnected from his father. That used to upset him, although it doesn't anymore- he's accepted that it's a comment people will keep making. One fact Teddy knows for sure is that grief grows and ages with you and your relationship with it changes. It's like having an invisible and very depressing twin.

Granny pauses, then concludes, "I am proud of you for many reasons, although this is not one of them. All you're doing is signing a paper and having a party. It's hardly an accomplishment. Though I can tell you with absolute conviction that your parents could not have been prouder than they would have been today,"

She nods grandly to show that she's finished. Teddy digests Granny's words for a moment, then gets to his feet. He goes over to where his wedding suit is hanging up, reaches into the jacket pocket and pulls out a folded sheet of parchment.

"Coco drew me this," he explains. Granny purses her lips the way she always does when anybody calls Teddy's younger daughter by her nickname. Coco is Claudette by birth, but Victoire started calling her Coco when she was a toddler and it's stuck. Granny says the nickname is silly and childish, and it doesn't sound like Claudette anyway. When Granny barks _, "Claudette!"_ at the girls when they're fighting or giggling, Teddy can understand why his nephews find her frightening.

The paper Teddy withdraws from his jacket has a picture drawn on it in childish hand. Two small figures with long brown hair, one in a dress and one wearing trousers and a t-shirt. On one side of the girls, Coco has drawn a woman with long streaks of yellow-crayoned hair and wearing a long white dress- Victoire. On the other side she's drawn a figure with short turquoise hair. To Teddy's left, she's drawn a figure, coloured in with both brown and peach pencil, with a scribble of pink on her head. On the other side of the picture is a man. He is smiling and waving and wearing professor's robes and a mortarboard. Coco had drawn her family.

"I'm going to keep it in my chest pocket," Teddy explains. His girls have drawn pictures of their grandparents before, although Teddy reckons that this is the first time Madeleine or Coco has drawn the six of them together. The experience of teaching his children about his parents has been fascinating. Talking to Maddy and Coco about Mum and Dad feels natural, because they're his parents and of course he wants the girls to know them. But it also feels strange because Teddy only had Mum and Dad for a month, and Vic was born two years after they died. It's made Teddy revisit his own childhood and compare it to his daughters' upbringing. The joy the girls bring him makes him sad that Mum and Dad didn't get to experience this, although that makes him more grateful for the fact that he _does_ have this. He _knows_ what a lucky man he is. Teddy's got a good career and he works hard, but he doesn't stay at St Mungo's a second longer than he has to, because he wants to be home with his girls. Teddy knows that when Harry's kids were teenagers, Harry would sometimes stay late his work to avoid facing them. They're over that now and have been for years, although since Maddy was born Teddy's found it troubling. Harry found parenting harder than Teddy has- he once told Teddy that being a father when you didn't have parents yourself was like operating without wires. Teddy's never felt that way. He does have parents. Mum and Dad and Granny and Harry and Ginny, Mum's friends and the Weasleys are all his parents in different ways. Most of them could be here today, but he's keeping Coco's drawing of the ones who couldn't close to his heart.

"I think your Dad would like that," Granny says softly. Dad liked drawing. Teddy enjoys it too, although he isn't as good as Dad was. He has all of Dad's sketchbooks and drawings at home. Sometimes he considers putting them up on the wall (well, Vic would have to do that. She's the practical one) but he doesn't want the pencilwork will fade in the light.

"Hope so," he says, looking at the paper for a moment before folding it carefully back into his jacket pocket.

"That's all I have to say," Granny declares.

"Right. Thank you, Granny. I'll see you out there,"

She nods nobly and leans up and forward, wobbling, to kiss his cheek. Teddy holds her wrist and shoulder to steady her.

"You," says Granny accusingly, when she steps away, "Have been one of the greatest joys of my life,"

She's hardly ever said anything like that before. It's not a particularly Andromeda Tonks thing to say. From the way she smirks at him, Teddy knows that Granny's aware of that, and she's pleased by off-footing him. It takes a while for her to shuffle out of the room, though neither of them say anything while she does. Teddy smiles to himself as Granny disappears out of the tepee. She really is one-of-a-kind.

Mum and Dad were too. Teddy has mixed feelings about the idea of an afterlife so he isn't sure if they're looking down on him or anything like that. He doesn't much mind either, because Mum and Dad are _with_ him. Through his Granny and his godparents and all his uncles and aunts. Through the stories Teddy knows about them. Through their two beautiful grand-daughters.

Teddy's Mum and Dad couldn't make it in person, but they're here anyway.

* * *

 **Thank you reading. Please remember to review.**

 **The next few weeks will be tough for me and I'm sure for many of you. Let's remember that common sense, kindness, and lots of Potter will help us through it. "Keep each other safe, keep faith".**


	67. If: Spring

If: Spring

March

If they have lived, Neville Longbottom would have been sitting at their kitchen table trying to act like this was not weird. But it _was_ weird and, despite the weirdness of the last year, Neville wasn't prepared for this particular kind of weird. When Professor Lupin taught at Hogwarts, Neville had had a few cups of tea in his office. But being in Lupin's _home_ with his _wife and baby_ would have been totally different. The fact that Lupin's wife was Neville's line manager increased the weirdness. When Tonks had invited Neville over, she'd have asked if he'd like Harry and Ron to come too (she would have known them too well to be their line manager, but they all would have seen a lot of each other at the Ministry). Neville would have declined. He'd had enough experience of being alone with Harry and Ron to know that it felt like both you were an outsider on their pair, and an intruder because you were a third person who wasn't Hermione. Neville's friendship with Harry and Ron had changed a lot over the last few months, but the sense of not belonging hadn't. The difference was that Neville didn't mind it much now.

Tonks and Professor Lupin's dining table was in the kitchen, so Lupin was cooking while Tonks was sitting at the table beside the high-chair, feeding the baby mashed broccoli.

"Is he a good eater?" Neville would have asked. That was something you were supposed to ask about babies, wasn't it?

"When he wants to be," Tonks would have replied, "He's getting better,"

"He prefers to put objects which aren't food in his mouth," chipped in Professor Lupin. He looked more relaxed today than Neville had seen him. To be fair, there were three years when Neville had only seen him in a battle, and a few weeks after the Battle where they'd only met at funerals. Lupin would have looked shabby and tired, but would have seemed chirpier here in his kitchen. Neville would have understood that.

When he'd been Neville's teacher, Professor Lupin had had brownish hair, although now it was mostly grey. Neville would have wondered how much older than Tonks he was. Ten years? Twenty? He wasn't good at guessing ages. Sometimes Tonks acted like she was in charge of everything, and sometimes she acted like she was barely older than Neville. She would have been a nice line manager- she would have assured Neville that she understood how overwhelming it was to join the Auror department and she was doing all she could to make him welcome _. "I know it seems intimidating,"_ was her favourite phrase. She often followed this with _, "But you wouldn't be here if we didn't believe you were capable"._ Hearing an Auror say that to him was mind-boggling.

"How's that banana tree of yours getting on, Neville?" Professor Lupin would have asked.

Neville wasn't sure if he'd mentioned this to Lupin when they'd met over the last few months, or if Tonks had told him.

"Good, thanks. It grows seeds before it grows bananas so, err, I might get fruit in the summer," he'd have replied. He was experimenting with growing Muggle tropical plants in a magically-enhanced greenhouse.

"You'd better give us some for Teddy, he can't get enough of bananas," Tonks would have piped up, "I was saying to Remus it's dead cool how you breed your own tropical fruits. You could start a business selling them to Muggles,"

"Yeah," Neville would have agreed.

"You should see how great he is with the plants we use for healing, Remus," Tonks continued. The _"Remus"_ thing was strange. Neville wouldn't have been sure if he was supposed to call Lupin that as well. Harry and Ron wold have swapped between the two, although Neville would have reckoned that for him to call Professor Lupin by his first name would have seemed too forward. Aurors tended to call each other by their surnames, and Tonks flipped between calling Neville either.

"That's excellent," said Lupin, then changed the subject by asking, "How's your grandmother?"

Perhaps, Neville would have suspected, Professor Lupin could tell that Tonks going on about how great he was, was making him uncomfortable. Neville could, in his head, acknowledge that he was brave and heroic and deserving of his Order of Merlin, although he still wasn't comfortable talking about it, or hearing other people talk about him out loud in those terms.

"She's fine, thank you," Neville would have answered, then cringed as he couldn't think of anything to add. Why did his mind have to go blank at times like this?

Thankfully, Teddy would have created a distraction by spitting out a mouthful of broccoli.

"Hey!" Tonks protested, "That's not very nice! Food goes in _mouth_ , remember?"

Teddy would have beamed, proud of himself.

"No, looking cute will _not_ let you off. Eat your food," Tonks instructed, spooning up a lump of broccoli. Teddy turned his face away.

"One, two, three, open," Tonks would have said. She'd have put the spoon against Teddy's mouth, but his lips would have remained firmly closed.

"Okay, I lied about him getting better at eating," she would have conceded to Neville.

"Let's call it a day on broccoli," Professor Lupin would have said from the stove, "He ate that big yoghurt earlier,"

Tonks would have wiped Teddy's mouth with a wet tea towel, lifted him out of his high-chair and put him into a pen in the corner of the kitchen. She wasn't wearing shoes, which wasn't unusual in her own home, but seemed unusual considering at work she wore knee-high Converse or dragonskin boots or massive Doc Martens.

"You'll have noticed that it's all pens round here," she would have explained to Neville, "He'll be off tearing up the carpets if he gets the chance,"

Teddy chuckled. Neville had heard various people mention that Teddy's hair changed colour, like Tonks' did, although today the baby's hair had remained an ordinary light brown colour.

"Yes, I know you know we're talking about you," Tonks would have told him, then added to Neville, "He's a proper cheeky monkey at the moment,"

"It'll be carnage when he starts walking," sighed Professor Lupin. He would have drained the pasta and tipped it evenly onto three plates, then spooned a chicken breast on each, and added sauce.

"Dinner's ready," he announced.

"You're officially outnumbered by Northerners now, so it's called tea tonight," Tonks teased him. They seemed like one of those couples who were constantly vaguely teasing each other. Now that Ron and Hermione had got together, they were like that, although Ron and Hermione also argued as much as they always had.

Professor Lupin would have put the plates and cutlery down on the table. He'd poured himself and Neville a glass of wine when Neville arrived, and topped up both glasses before they sat down to eat (Tonks had explained that she was off alcohol while she was breast-feeding. Neville could have done without the explanation). They would have chatted about the Ministry and Hogwarts and the Botswanan Quidditch team's appeal after the World Cup final. Professor Lupin kept doing that Professor Lupin thing of turning the question back on Neville and building on Neville's answers. A couple of times the baby would start have shouted and Tonks would have leapt out of her chair, bounded over to him and told him to shush.

"I know we've got a visitor but that's enough showing off," she reprimanded him. Teddy giggled and gurgled. Tonks would have given him an exaggerated pout, then ruffled his hair and left him to it.

Over desert, conversation would have come around to the war. That happened a lot these days. During the last year of the war, Neville had been one of the leaders of Dumbledore's Army. He'd got good at public speaking and explaining what was happening. Now the urgency of that situation was over, talking about the war was difficult again, especially as he'd gone from being a leader to being a new Auror with a lot to learn.

"It wasn't really a decision," Neville would have explained, "People asked if we were trying to be like Harry, Ron and Hermione, but we didn't sit down and agree, it just worked out that there were three of us and some stuff we had to do,"

Tonks, he remembered, was a mate of Ginny's, so she probably knew all this already.

"Can you get your head around Snape actually working to protect you all?" Tonks would have asked.

"Umm. Sort of," Neville murmured.

Momentarily, Professor Lupin would have looked as if he was going to speak but seemed to decide against it. Perhaps, Neville would've guessed, Lupin was remembering how much Snape hated Neville. Lupin had known it from their first lesson, though he'd never mentioned it. That hadn't been unusual- lots of teachers knew Snape had it in for Neville and Harry and none of them did anything about it. Neville had figured that Professor Snape probably had it in for lots of students, so the teachers were used to it. Or, considering how many teachers _knew_ how hopeless Neville could be, they supposed he deserved Professor Snape's ire. Lupin had always been kind to him, though. After the Boggart in their first lesson, Lupin often picked Neville to have the first go at a challenge, or he'd ask Neville to hand out the equipment or collect in worksheets. Dean and Lavender huffed when a teacher made them do that, but Neville had enjoyed having a job. Even if he messed up everything else in the lesson, he'd at least contributed in a small way. A few times, Professor Lupin had invited Neville into his office for a cup of tea and a bar of chocolate, too.

Neville wasn't hopeless anymore. Perhaps he never was, but it had taken years to realise. Snape was unfair to him and that was wrong. Neville knew that now for sure.

"I'm still getting that straight in my head," Tonks would have murmured. Neville knew that Tonks' dad had been murdered by Snatchers about a year previously. Ginny had told him, and Tonks had mentioned it a couple of weeks after Neville started at the Ministry. Though she hadn't yet mentioned her connection to Bellatrix Lestrange. Bellatrix was Tonks' aunt. As far as Neville knew, they'd only met when trying to kill each other. Bellatrix Lestrange had wanted to kill Neville, too.

"Yeah," he murmured.

"This war developed in ways none of us were expecting," said Professor Lupin, "It'll take years to process,"

"And that's just the paperwork, right Longbottom?" Tonks would have chirped. Being an Auror involved a lot of paperwork. It was Ron's favourite topic to moan about.

He smiled back. "Do you ever remember something that happened in the last couple of years that you forgot? I always forget different bits of it?" said Neville.

"It's easy to get mixed up, isn't it?" said Lupin, "I find writing clarifies events in my head,"

"Yeah, I've done that a bit. Just bullet points," Neville would have answered.

"Is it helpful?"

"S'pose,"

"More paperwork," Tonks would have noted, "I'm telling you, Neville, Remus writes more lists than anyone you've met,"

"My wife writes no lists, and so is constantly forgetting things," Professor Lupin would have returned, "Anyhow, we're all processing in our different ways. If you've found a method that works for you then stick with it,"

Neville would have been both perturbed and amused by the fact that Lupin was talking to him in a similar way to how he had when Lupin was his teacher, but they were sat around Lupin's dining table with his family. _This,_ Neville would have thought, was quite a lot to process. Perhaps he should write bullet points about how unexpected and unusual this was.

After pudding, Teddy would have been getting tired and cross, and Neville would have taken it as his cue to leave.

"See you on Monday morning," Tonks would have said, waving him goodbye at the front door of the flat.

"I'm only in on Tuesday," Neville pointed out. Auror work patterns were irregular.

"Jammy bastard," she muttered, then corrected herself, "I mean, valued employee who happens to be lucky regarding work arrangements for next week,"

Professor Lupin would have shot her a disapproving look, although he wouldn't have managed to speak because the baby had started to mewl. Neville would have doubted that Tonks was jealous about himself not being in on Monday- she got irritated by stuff at work all the time, but it was obvious that she loved her job. Neville wondered if he'd ever love being an Auror that much.

"Thank you for having me," he said.

"It's been lovely to see you," said Professor Lupin, holding his hand out to Neville, "I'm sure we'll meet again soon,"

Neville would have shaken Lupin's hand.

"Bye," Tonks would've added. Neville wasn't sure if the situation called for a handshake or a hug, so he was relieved when Teddy reached for her and she took him off Lupin, rendering her hands full. Teddy would have bent backwards, lurching his head towards the floor.

"Yes, we know you're tired," Lupin would have told him.

"I'll let you get on with bed-time," said Neville.

"It's alright," said Professor Lupin, at the same time as Tonks said, "Thank you!"

Neville would have laughed. "Bye. Bye, Teddy," he said, and waved.

Tonks would have flicked her wand at the building's front door to spring it open. Neville would have walked out of the flat, to and through the building's front door, and out onto the street.

It had been a funny old evening, he'd have mused. If he'd been told six years ago, or even two years ago, that he'd one day be having tea with his Defence Professor and his manager at the Auror office, his head would have exploded. The world Neville lived in now was strange, and tiring, and full of surprises. Neville liked it. And, he'd have thought, as he apparated home, he liked himself in this world, too.

* * *

April

"And all three little pygmy-puffs went back home to bed. The end," Tonks would have said, closing the book. She'd have been sitting on the living room floor with Teddy on her lap. He'd have whacked the book's back cover with his pudgy hand.

"Do you want it again?" his mother would have asked. When she turned the book over and opened the first page again, Teddy's face would have lit up.

"You like this story, don't you?" Tonks would have murmured, nuzzling his cheek, "Are you going to say a big thank you to Hermione for all these books the next time you see her?"

Teddy would have jiggled, which she would have taken as a yes. Coming as a surprise to nobody, Hermione's present to Teddy on his first birthday had been a stack of picture books. Some were Muggle, some wizarding and some, because Hermione Granger was not one to do things by halves, were in French.

"He's dead smart, Remus," Tonks would have said, "He understands that the story has a beginning a middle and an end, and I'm sure he knows it's going to be the same story every time we read it. Honestly, I reckon our kid is a genius,"

Her husband wouldn't have responded, and she'd have twisted round to face him. Lupin would have been sitting on the sofa, watching them.

"Don't you agree?" Tonks insisted.

"Hmm," Lupin would have replied.

"What's up?"

Lupin would have squirmed and muttered, "He's growing up,"

"I know. Aren't you getting so big and so clever?" Tonks would have said, squeezing Teddy.

"I know he's still a baby, but he's starting to look more and more like a little boy," Lupin would have murmured.

Teddy's facial features were becoming more defined, and he could do more with them. He sometimes wrinkled his nose as if to say, " _Oh Daddy, why on Earth are you going_ that?". He'd learnt to stand up and take a few wobbly steps clinging to the sofa. He threw stuff and he danced and often Lupin suspected that he was trying to sound out words. There were stories and songs that he liked. Teddy was becoming a person, not just a baby. And that was horrifying.

"Aaw, d'you miss him being all tiny?" Tonks grinned. Lupin would have shivered. She didn't understand. How could she? How could she empathise with the dread that their child was bringing on him?

"I haven't been around a little boy for years," he would have explained, voice rasping, "I'd forgotten what they feel like and smell like. What they _are_ like,"

Tonks would have realised what he was getting at. "You're thinking about yourself, aren't you?"

Lupin would have nodded. Being near a small boy, especially a one who was looking more like him with every passing day, would have reminded him of himself. Of what had been inflicted upon him as a child. For years, Remus hardly remembered being bitten. He remembered the terror and the bewilderment, but previously he couldn't remember the event itself, and in his nightmares it was hazy. The horror and secrecy about what had happened had made him lock the truth away, and that had made him disconnect from himself as a small child. But having a boy of his own had unlocked the door. The memories were becoming less blurred. For years he'd understood what had happened, but now that understanding was changing. That was unsettling enough, but the way in which it was changing was terrifying.

Tonks would have reached over and put her hand on his knee. "Greyback can't hurt you anymore. He can't hurt Teddy,"

In the newly-resurfaced memories, Remus would have remembered more details than he had before: the clatter as Greyback knocked over his beloved toy train set and sent the Flying Scotsman ricocheting into the bookshelf. How at first he had felt puzzled, more than terrified, at the sight of a wolf in his bedroom, and then Greyback had leapt at him, sharp claws hooking into the skin of his back. The blue-and-white check on his duvet cover and the way his blood had dripped over it. How dark the blood had been. Knowing that he was going to die. Dad swearing and screaming at Mam to stay away- now, Lupin could remember Dad's words and tone. Lupin could remember hearing curses blasting around them, but he'd been unable to see because his face was shoved into his pillow, whether from force or terror he still couldn't say. He could remember Mam holding him while he sobbed and writhed and was sick over and over; the hotpot he'd had for tea regurgitated all over the floor, and when his tummy was empty he'd vomited bile. He was dying, he knew he was dying, and he just wanted Mammy to hug him and make it all go away. Except it hadn't gone away, and that night was only the start.

In those memories, Remus watched it all happen through his own eyes. But he'd be seeing other imagines now too- images where he was a _witness_ to the little bloody body on the bed, because the little bloody body was his son. In the last few weeks as Teddy had got bigger and had his first birthday, the images had invaded Remus' mind more than ever. He would have known that the anxiety was irrational, but knowing it and feeling it were different. The fear would have gripped him, sometimes momentarily and sometimes for minutes at a time. He'd have known he should have told his wife about it, but they'd have been so content these past few weeks. The trials were out of the way, Dora was back at work and he was at home looking after the baby most days. Teddy would have had a lovely first birthday and Andromeda would have seemed to be coming back to her old self. Life wasn't back to normal (Remus wasn't sure he'd be able to identify "normal") but it was becoming calmer and more consistent. He wouldn't have wanted to ruin that. Besides, Remus wouldn't have been sure how to verbalise his fear. He knew what it was to experience misery and isolation and self-hatred and fright, but he's never experienced anything as purely anxiety-inducing as this. At times over the last few weeks, he'd have been more on edge than he had during the war.

Tonks would have been watching him, thinking that she should have expected this. While she'd been pregnant, they'd gone round in circles about how they'd afford the baby, if the baby was in danger, if the baby was a werewolf, if werewolves wanted to hurt the baby. Since the war ended, they'd bickered about if Teddy was ill, or feeding enough, or too cold, or if and when it was safe to take him out of the house. They wouldn't have given much consideration to how a baby would make Remus feel about _himself,_ about the hurt which werewolves had already inflicted on him. Tonks knew that he found it hard to reconcile the fact that the attack hadn't been his fault with the fact that he believed himself tainted and dangerous. He would have stopped being self-loathing recently, but perhaps now it was creeping back.

"Oh, come here," she'd have murmured. She'd have set Teddy onto the floor with the book, then climbed onto the sofa and wrapped an arm around her husband's shoulder. "He will _never_ hurt you again. Understand? I won't let anybody hurt you,"

"Teddy will always be at risk because of us,"

"That's why having a baby with an Auror was sensible decision, because we're going to keep him safe,"

"My parents believed they could keep me safe," Lupin would have pointed out. During his months at the werewolf camp last year, Lupin had heard Greyback, many times, plan an attack on a family. Choose a child. Explain what he wanted to do to the victim, how, and why it was necessary. Lupin couldn't help imagining Greyback making the same preparations about attacking him. He'd known for years that Greyback's attack on him had been targeted and prepared, but witnessing the preparation process had made it real. A couple of times that year, he'd slipped away from the werewolf meeting and snuck outside to throw up.

"That's what you're upset about, isn't it?" Tonks would have clarified, "You're not scared for Teddy, you're scared for you,"

Lupin would have squirmed. "Both," he said, then added in a whisper, "It feels like the same,"

Tonks would have run a hand through his hair a couple of times, then down his cheek to his jaw, lifting his face up so he was looking directly at her. "I'm sorry it happened when you were a kid. Have I ever said that before? I'm sorry I couldn't protect you then- I swear I would if I could have been. But it isn't going to happen again. _Nobody_ is going to hurt you anymore,"

She'd have put her arms around him and pulled him towards her, whispering over and over in his ear, "You're safe, you're safe, no-one's going to hurt you,"

But, Remus thought, she couldn't know that. She couldn't defend him forever- in almost all the battles they'd been in they'd barely seen each other. The memory of Greyback would eternally be lurking, and the fear of the werewolf would forever hang over their son. It would surely get worse as Teddy grew older and closer to the age Remus had been when bitten. More memories would return. More anxiety. More of the sick sensation when he looked at his baby. His face was buried in his wife' shoulder, but he could hear Teddy gurgling and shuffling around on the carpet.

For a moment, Tonks would have suspected Remus was crying, which was bonkers because her husband hardly ever cried. But when he wriggled away from her, his eyes were dry.

He swallowed, composing himself. Then he would have announced, "I'm going for a walk,"

Tonks gripped his shoulders harder. "Are you sure? Do you want me to-"

"I want to be on my own,"

He needed air. He needed to get away from her and the baby for a while. He needed to consider this alone. It wasn't bad, it wasn't failure in his attempt to open up more. It was that being in a room with Teddy would have been making him feel worse.

Tonks' face would have fallen, and Lupin would have forced a smile and added, "I won't be long. I just need to clear my thoughts,"

"Okay. If that's what you want,"

"I'll go around the block a couple of times. I'll be half an hour at most,"

It was a force of habit that everybody still preferred to tell their families and friends where they were going and for how long.

"Are you alright?"

Once, Lupin would have lied and told her he was fine. Now, he said: "No,"

"Okay. Do you want to talk about it more when you get home?"

She'd have wanted to say _because we can work through this. I can help you. Teddy can help you. You don't have to be afraid for yourself and him._ But often Remus just needed to be listened to. He didn't need her throwing answers and solutions at him, however helpful she thought they might be.

"No. But I should, shouldn't I?" he would have acknowledged.

"Whatever you want,"

"Right," Lupin would have said. He should talk to her about it. He would. But first he needed to get outside for a while.

He'd have started to walk away. He didn't always kiss her hello or goodbye, so Tonks wouldn't have noticed that he didn't do it this time. But he wouldn't have kissed Teddy, and that was unlike him.

Tonks went over to where the baby was chucking his books about on the floor, and picked him up. Now he'd turned one, Teddy would have been heavier and harder to wrangle, and he flailed in her arms.

"Ted, shush," she'd have hushed him.

The baby grizzled and babbled. Tonks would have wished that he hadn't grown out of dummies, because this was exactly the sort of time she'd want to shove one in his mouth. But her husband was almost leaving.

"Remus?" she'd have said.

At the door, he'd have turned.

"Yes?"

Tonks hugged the baby tighter. "Me and him are lucky to have you,"

Remus have tried to smile as he shut the door, though it would have come out as more of a grimace.

"I really, _really_ mean that," Tonks would have insisted as vehemently as she could.

Once, Lupin wouldn't have believed her. Now, he looked her in the eye and replied seriously, "I know".

* * *

May

If they'd have lived, the two of them would have been sitting on the sofa at the Burrow, surrounded by Arthur, Molly, George, Fleur, Bill, Ron and Harry. Everyone would be crammed onto chairs or perched on furniture, watching the middle of the carpet, where Teddy would have been wobbling to his feet.

"Third time lucky," Tonks would have said, "Come on, Teddy, off you go,"

The baby would have stood for a couple of seconds, then plopped back onto his bottom. His fluffy hair was dark green today.

"Are you _sure_ you saw him walking, Tonks?" George would have asked.

"I swear to Camelot. Remus, back me up," she'd have insisted.

"He walked," Lupin would have confirmed.

Teddy would have spent the last few weeks staggering along while holding on to a piece of furniture. On Tuesday he'd managed to get to his feet and walk a few steps independently, and he'd done it a few times since. Now he was in front of an audience, however, he didn't want to repeat the performance.

Harry would have held up Teddy's cuddly owl and waved it at him encouragingly, "Here's your toy, Ted. Can you get over here to play with it?"

Teddy appeared to momentarily consider, then decide that he would prefer to whack his hand on the carpet.

"Has anybody got any food?" Ron would have asked.

"Ron, he's not a dog," Bill would have replied.

"When is there _not_ food around here?" George snarked.

"When you boys eat it all," Molly replied.

"Tedd _yyy._ Tedd _yyyyyy,"_ Fleur would have cooed, waving her arms in front of her to try to summon the baby. Tonks would have rolled her eyes. Teddy wouldn't have moved.

"What if we scared him from behind?" Ron suggested. The mental image of Hermione eyeballing him and groaning _"Ron!"_ would have been obvious enough to everybody in the room that not even Molly bothered to reprimand him.

Lupin stood up from the sofa, sat on the floor about a foot away from Teddy, held his hand out and wiggled his fingers.

"This might work," Lupin would have said.

Teddy took his hand, and Lupin shuffled backwards slowly, pulling his fingers away from Teddy's. The baby looked momentarily confused, then allowed his father to let go.

"Or not," Harry would have said.

"Are you _sure_ you 'ave seen 'im walking?" Fleur would have asked.

"Yes. Obviously," Tonks glowered.

"'E was a little late to crawl, _non?"_

"He's developing at his own pace," Lupin would have answered placidly. Teddy had been slower than average to crawl, and it had taken him until after his first birthday to walk independently. Lupin wouldn't have been concerned; Teddy was only a baby and didn't need to be tested on what he was learning to do when.

"And he's ahead of the average baby at cognitive stuff, he's nearly talking already," Tonks would have piped up. Lupin would have resisted the temptation to roll his eyes- usually his wife had the same opinion as he did about baby milestones, but Fleur Delacour could always be relied upon to rub others up the wrong way. Lupin would have heard from Tonks, who'd heard from Ginny, who'd have finagled it out of Bill at Christmas, that he and Fleur had agreed to start trying to have a baby. Perhaps, Remus would have guessed, that was why Fleur had suddenly become an expert on baby stages. Maybe she was pregnant already- Teddy was an accident so Lupin didn't have any experience of how long it usually took to "try" for a baby. He wouldn't have wanted to consider it either.

"It's all different they start talking," Arthur would have said.

"Especially when you've got brothers like mine," Bill corroborated.

"Because of our constant hilarious wit?" George would have asked, batting his eyelashes. After a difficult few weeks which had seen his first birthday alone, and the first anniversary of Fred's death, George seemed chirpier today. Although in the last few months he had, on more than one occasion, seemed cheerful in the afternoon and been threatening to throw himself off a bridge by the evening. Any room which George was in contained a tension, as everyone was nervous about what he'd do next. Any room George _wasn't_ in contained a fear that he might be somewhere else, having a breakdown with nobody to look after him. In some ways, what had happened to George broke Molly's heart more than losing Fred.

"Don't know what you're talking about your brothers for- it's Ginny who didn't shut up from when she was a baby until she met Harry," shrugged Ron.

" _Pardon?_ " asked Fleur.

"Apparently my sister was always very taken with him," Bill explained.

"Couldn't be in a room with him without going totally silent and knocking over a milk-bottle," Ron corroborated.

"Sounds like being with me," said Tonks.

"Apart from the silence," Lupin would have chipped in.

"And the fancying Harry, I presume?" George added.

"Dunno, the night's still young," Tonks would have shrugged.

Harry, mortified by this point, would have timed a coughing fit to distract everybody. Ron would have thumped him on the back, hard.

"Do you need a glass of water?" Molly would have asked.

"See if Teddy will go and get it for you," said Ron.

"Everyone!" piped up Arthur, "Teddy's moved,"

The whole room would have turned their eyes to where Teddy had been plonked next to Lupin. Now, the baby was a couple of feet further away. There was a stunned silence.

"Did we miss it?" Molly would have asked.

"No way did he just walk," Tonks would have said, "We'd have seen it,"

"Did he shuffle?" Arthur asked.

"He makes a noise when he shuffles," Lupin would have explained.

"Remus, didn't you see? You're right next to him," his wife would have asked.

"I was talking to you all,"

"How did none of us see a baby move?" George cried, "Did he apparate?"

"No, he walked," Tonks would have decided, "There's your proof, Teddy can walk on his own,"

"I wouldn't exactly call it proof," said Bill.

"We need a Muggle security camera on him," chirped Arthur, "CTVC,"

"Have you given him your cloak?" Ron would have asked Harry. Then he got out of his chair, lifted the baby up and pretended to examine him. Everyone would have laughed, and then the oven would have dinged to tell them Molly's roast dinner was ready.

" _Finally_ ," Ron sighed, as if he hadn't eaten in weeks.

"Fleur, George, you two are laying the table," Molly would have ordered, bustling into the kitchen to fetch the food.

A few minutes later, everybody would have been sitting round the table, eating and chatting. Lupin would have been talking to Arthur about the story on the front page of the _Sunday Prophet_. George and Ron would have been arguing about Quidditch. Bill and Tonks would have been discussing when the Wand-Tang Clan were going to release their next album, and Molly would have been between them pretending she understood what they were talking about. Teddy's high-chair would have been on the end, and Harry would have been feeding him a mashed-up version of the roast. It would have been a happy, lively scene, full of people who loved each other.

But of course, it never happened.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading this four-parter. I hope you enjoyed. Whatever you thought, please drop me a review. Thanks.**


	68. Tattoos

_The trembling moon and the stars unfurled_

 _Well, there she goes, my beautiful world._

 _There she goes, my beautiful world,_

 _There she goes, my beautiful world,_

 _There she goes, my beautiful world,_

 _There she goes again._

\- Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

Tattoos

Remus is should be used to sleeping through crashes by now. Tonks can barely walk into a room without walking into something or elbowing an object off a shelf. It happens every morning, and mostly it doesn't wake him, although this morning the added thunk and yelp of "Bollocks!" jolts Remus into consciousness. He opens his eyes in time to see the rail of jackets tip over and land on the carpet. A moment later, a turquoise head pops up from the end of the bed.

"That went well," Tonks mutters to herself. Her hair's dripping wet, and as she stands up Remus sees that she's naked. Tonks swears to herself, then picks up her wand from the floor and flicks at the rail to make it stand upright.

"Want a hand?" Remus asks.

Because his girlfriend has had Stealth and Tracking training, she never jumps when he's surprised. Instead, she usually makes a slight jolt. She does it now, and it makes Remus' stomach jolt too.

"Not like you to be awake this early," Tonks mumbles.

"I wonder what woke me up?" he asks drily.

She pouts at him. Remus should find that annoying and childish, but instead it's adorable and alluring and makes him want to cover her mouth with his. She picks her towel up off the floor, sits down on the end of bed with her back to him, and starts towelling her hair dry (she could easily cast a drying charm on it, although Remus has discovered that it's best not to question his girlfriend's complicated hair-care routine). He shuffles to sit up against the headboard, looking at her back. He isn't sure and doesn't care what Tonks' natural figure is like, though she's mentioned a couple of times that she morphs her shoulders bulkier. Aurors need to be brawny. Tonks doesn't make her shoulders slimmer outside of work, which Remus likes, although he'll never tell her that. He avoids discussing her Metamorphmagus abilities with her, because she's so proud of her powers he feels nervous that he might accidentally insult her. Tonks' left shoulder has a bruise on. There's a scratch down her arm. She's got a scab on her right elbow, and if Remus was closer, he could see the place on her left elbow which has had a scar there since she broke it climbing out of her dormitory window in fourth-year. He knows so much about her, he realises. He's known her less than a year and already he knows her body and her anecdotes as well as he knows Sirius'.

Remus wants to push the duvet off, climb forward to sit behind Tonks, press his mouth to the bruise and kiss down her arm to the scab on her elbow. But kissing the bruise would press pressure on it, which might hurt, and he won't ever do anything which could hurt her even the slightest bit. So he stays where he is and gazes at the tattoo on her shoulder. It's a chameleon. The symbolism isn't difficult to work out; a love of colours and the ability to change appearance. The chameleon on Tonks' shoulder is inked in a range of colours, which means that technically it _isn't_ a chameleon, as they blend into their background (although Remus has never pointed that technicality out). When she's messing about changing her skin-tone, the shades of the chameleon change too. Magical tattoos can be made to move, so the chameleon wanders around across Tonks' back from time to time. Sometimes its eye rolls around in its socket, or its tongue darts out. Tonks got it in stages- first the outline, then the colours. It took her first two years of Auror training to finish- she's very friendly with the tattoo artist on Diagon Alley as a result of going there so many times to get parts of the chameleon coloured.

Tonks leans forward to dry her toes, then drops the towel on the floor and reaches into her overflowing chest of drawers (she never shuts them) to take out a bra and a pair of knickers. Most of her underwear is luminously-coloured- today the bra is yellow with cherries on, and her pants are pink.

"If you're awake you can help me out," Tonks announces, kicking her wardrobe door open. She searches for a moment, then pulls out a long-sleeved sparkly grey shirt, and a blue t-shirt with a cartoon character Remus doesn't recognise printed on it.

"Which one?"

"Should you wear?" he clarifies.

"No, which one should I use as the flag of the country I'm becoming prime minister of," Tonks snarks.

Remus considers, knowing that Tonks knows as well as he does that his fashion advice is negligible. Which is why he can't help but feel touched by the fact that she's asking.

"The grey one," he decides.

"It's silver," she corrects him, "But okay,"

Tonks tosses it on over her head, though it's translucent enough that he can see her bra underneath, and short enough to leave part of her stomach bare. Remus can see the piercing in her navel (that's the only piercing which stays in permanently- she changes the ones in her ears every day. Sometimes it's piercings or pins in the ear-lobe, sometimes in the helix, sometimes through the cartilage at the top of the ear. Tonks had a piercing in her nose when she was a teenager, but Aurors aren't allowed them. They aren't allowed lip piercings either, which annoys her because she's desperate to get one. Once, she told him, "That's the first rule to change when I get Mad-Eye's job," and Remus had no idea if this was a joke, a prediction, a dream, or a plan Tonks had actually discussed with Moody. Remus didn't mention that the idea of kissing her with a lip piercing made him shudder. And he nearly choked when she added, "And the second rule will be to let me get my nipple pierced,"). Part of her pirate ship tattoo is also visible. It's an outline ("linework" Tonks had explained, is the technical term), inked in what Tonks claims is brown although Remus is convinced is black. The ship has three sails, and the outline of portholes, a jolly roger flag, a female figurehead. It's Tonks' most recent tattoo, got because she "just fancied it". When she'd said that, Remus had had to pretend he didn't think it was a shocking and perplexing reason to get a picture permanently inked onto one's skin. He "just fancies" raspberry jam on his toast some mornings, but he's not about to get it drawn only his body forever. He doesn't understand half the things Tonks does. He _cannot imagine_ what it is like inside her mind. He is constantly puzzled by aspects of her existence.

She leans into her draws-within-the-wardrobe (she has a seemingly unlimited number of clothes storage options) and withdraws three skirts: red stripes, and dark green with dots stitched into it, and purple leather.

"Choose," she orders, shoving them in front of Remus' nose.

"Green," he obeys.

"Why?"

"Green is nice," he guesses, unsure why she's asking or what the answer she's looking for is.

"Nah, I like the purple," Tonks says airily, "But thanks anyway,"

She sets the purple skirt down on the bed, tosses the other two onto the floor, fetches a pair of tights from another inner-universe of her wardrobe, tugs them on, and puts the skirt on over the top. The leather hugs her hips, distractingly.

On her bedroom mantelpiece, Tonks has a jewellery box. It's white with ornate pale-yellow detailing- not the sort of item which looks like it belongs in her modern, untidy bedroom. Tonks opens the box and chooses a necklace and bracelets, and as she does puts them on, Remus eyes the tattoo on the top side of her right wrist. It's a letter A in blue ink. The A stands for Acceptable- the grade Tonks got in her Transfiguration mock NEWT exam at the end of sixth year. It had made her furious and scared and, Tonks had told him, led to her spending more hours than she likes to admit crying in Professor Sprout's office. She'd panicked about what would happen if she got As next year and didn't get into Auror training. Tonks got the tattoo done the Summer following the mocks, to remind herself that an Acceptable was _not_ acceptable. She had to do better and work harder. She explained to Remus she'd got the tattoo was in the inside of her righting wrist so she can look at it when she's writing or duelling, remember the dreadful, sinking feeling of getting an A, and know that she has to keep working as hard as she can to avoid ever feeling that way again. When Tonks first told him that story, Remus' first thought was that if she got the tattoo the summer between her sixth and seventh year, she'd have been too young to get it legally. Sirius, he remembers, had also started getting inked before he was technically old enough. Some of those similarities between them that make Remus feel uncomfortable, and some make him smile. His next thought was Tonks' ambition and work ethic are what he most admires about her. She does a full day at the Ministry, then goes to Order duty. She makes notes about details Mad-Eye tells her, though only when he isn't looking. She does sit-ups and press-ups and chin-ups every evening, which is sometimes embarrassing if she's panting away on the floor while Remus is sitting on the sofa drinking tea. She knows the names of all the bones in the hand, all the Acrasian quickfire jinxes, and all the laws surrounding public offenses (she's working on memorising their subsections, which many Aurors who've been in the job ten years haven't all bothered to do). She is the most impressive person he knows.

Tonks kneels on the floor in front of her mirror to do her hair, and Remus takes his novel off the bedside table to distract himself. The book is _As I Lay Dying_ by William Faulkner ("Looks like a barrel of laughs," his girlfriend had noted when she'd seen it). It's the sort of book one needs to pay attention to, and he's too sleepy and distracted to do that at present. Remus reads the same page over a few times, until Tonks chucks her bottle of hair product to the side, leaps up from the floor and bounds over to him. Her hair's shoulder-length, wavy and reddish coloured. Remus can tell that she's put lipstick on, and perhaps something on her eyelashes too? Make-up is another mystery to him.

"I'll see you at Grimmauld tomorrow night," she promises.

Remus nods and replies, "Have a good day,"

"You too. Say hi to Sirius,"

"I'll wind him up for you," he smiles.

"Good," Tonks says. She hugs her arms around his neck. Tonks presses a kiss to the side of his face and makes a little hum of happiness. It's such a genuine, content, flattering noise that it makes Remus' insides tremble. Since this thing with her started he's felt occasionally delicate. Not in the hungover or ill or weak sense, but in the physical, flimsy, soft way. She has opened up new emotions and sensations in him which are frightening, delicious and addictive. Not only joy and pleasure, but befuddlement, anger, concern, and this new sensitivity towards himself. He experiences the world differently because of her.

"Bye-bye," Tonks whispers in his ear. Then she lets him go, yanks a navy jacket from the rail she knocked over earlier, and whirls out of the bedroom. Halfway out of the door, she calls, "Don't go searching for my secret teenage diary!"

She always says stuff like that whenever she leaves him alone in her flat. Remus still can't quite believe that she trusts him enough to let him be here by himself. He hears Tonks get to her flat's front door, a couple of thuds while she rummages through her pile of shoes for a pair she wants to wear today, and then a final yell of, "Cheerio!" as the front door open and shuts.

Remus flops backwards onto the pillow, reflecting that that was all a bit of a blur. Turns out that Morning Leaving-For-Work Tonks is a distilled version of Usual Tonks, with her clumsiness, noise, untidiness, rushing about, chaos, and adorableness intensified. Remus feels almost as if he's had a strong shot of coffee. Actually, gin would be more accurate, given how discombobulated she's left him. Discombobulated, and grinning like a basket of chips.

Perhaps he should wake up this early every morning.


	69. Scars

_"If you asked him how he was feeling he would tell you, but he never complained; his disposition remained the same, so in order to find out how he was feeling, you had to ask him"._

\- Harper Lee, _Go Set A Watchman_

Scars

"I've got a surprise for you," he'd said earlier. Which was surprising, because Remus doesn't like surprises. He'd held his hand out to help Tonks up off the bed, then put both hands over her eyes.

"What are you doing?" she'd asked, giggling.

She'd felt Remus kiss her cheek. "You'll see,"

He'd steered her into the bathroom. Tonks could feel warmth and smell a flowery scent, and when her husband took his hands away, she saw that the bath was billowing with bubbles and candles were dotted around the room.

Tonks beamed. Then she turned to face him. "You are _such_ a sap,"

Remus had shrugged, looking proud of himself, and she laughed and kissed him.

"Thank you," she murmured.

They'd undressed- Remus had wanted to help her, and she'd let him, and she'd let him get into the bath first and hold both her hands so she didn't fall when she stepped in after. He'd sat down in the water, leaning against the back of the bath, and Tonks had leaned back against him.

"Choose a record," he'd said, nodding over to the shelf above the toilet, where the record player stood beside a stack of records.

Tonks had chosen an LP, and her husband had used his wand to levitate it onto the record player and start playing. At first, they'd talked a little, about what had happened that week, about plans for when the baby arrived, about Mad-Eye. Now, they've lapsed into silence. Remus has pushed her hair to one side (pregnancy is making her feel more feminine, so she's wearing her hair longer these days) and is kissing her neck and shoulder. When he's in a situation he's comfortable with, he can be great at physical stuff. His mouth is slightly ticklish, more tender than erotic, and it feels fantastic. He's got his hands over her stomach, which is getting bigger now. Tonks doesn't reckon she looks pregnant yet- frustratingly, she looks fat, which is strange to come to terms with because if she puts on a couple of pounds, she can usually morph it away, but that isn't a good idea with the baby growing inside her. Tonks isn't convinced that she likes being pregnant- all that "blooming with beauty" and "miracle of nature" drivel sounds like it's from another planet. Maybe that'll come in the new year, or maybe she'll keep feeling dumpy, bloated and sluggish until the baby arrives in the Spring.

Good job, then, she has a husband who gives her treats like this. He's pressing his mouth against her collar-bone now (Remus doesn't ever bite her, but he sometimes does a similar motion but with his lips instead of his teeth). His knees are either side of hers, and Tonks can see the scratches across his legs. He gets those every full moon. The lighter cuts are from bracken and thorns, and the deeper gashes from the wolf's claws. The latter are often found on his ankles, because when the wolf runs its claws catch on the heels of the other foot. The morning after a full moon Tonks helps Remus patch himself up, and when he falls asleep she allows herself a cry while she looks at all the bandages they've plastered across his body. Remus' compliancy, the fact that he never complains and only occasionally winces at his injuries, makes her cry more. He's _resigned_ to regularly experiencing serious pain. He's had years of dealing with it alone. The pain would be bad enough but there's fear to, and humiliation and the knowledge of the violence which will be inflicted on him and which he'll be made to want to inflict on others. When she watches him sleep after full moon, Tonks sometimes jolts with alarm at realising that "taking care a werewolf after a full moon" has become part of her life. It's too upsetting to be routine exactly, but it's normal. And that's _crazy._ Two and a half years ago she'd have been apprehensive about being in the same room as even an untransformed werewolf. She was decent at healing magic, but she'd never imagined Dittany and bandages and sleeping draughts to take up so much space in her bathroom cupboards and in her head.

Remus' knees are bruised due to the way his bones change when he transforms. Sometimes they're scabbed too, and they click like crazy when he stands up. He's clicky all over- Tonks suspects he'll be arthritic before he's fifty. Which, disconcertingly, isn't very far away for him. His fingers crack sometimes, and they go stiff in the cold. Like his legs, the backs of his hands have a nicks from bushes and bracken. Remus' arms aren't as damaged- they seem to survive much of the scathing that happens on the forest floor. He's not especially muscular, but his arms have taken such twisting in transformation that his biceps and triceps so pronounced that they almost sag.

Remus nuzzles the side of her face and laps at her earlobe. "Your mother's going to be home soon," he whispers.

"Just what every girl wants to hear when she's naked with her husband,"

"But not what every mother wants to walk in on, or what every son-in-law wants to be witnessed doing,"

She presses against his chest. "What is it exactly you don't want to be witnessed doing with me?"

Remus laughs (she can feel it through his chest) and darts his tongue out to lick the shell of her ear. "This," he mumbles.

"What else?"

He leans down to brush his mouth against hers. "And this,"

"Mmm?"

"And this,"

Remus' wet hands drift up from her stomach to her chest, around her breasts and down her arms, over her hands and across her thighs. His touch is light and his hands are slick with water and bubbles.

"No. I imagine Mum would be pretty cross with you if she saw you do that," Tonks mumbles. Her mum's been coming around to Remus more lately. Tonks reckons that "like" optimistic when describing how her mother feels about her husband, but Mum's finally starting to see Remus has a person, not a werewolf. And if Mum's seeing Remus as person, Tonks is sure she must be able to tell what a sweet, funny, humble guy he is, and how helpful and supportive he's being. But Mum has an infuriating habit of seeing what she wants to see.

Remus nudges her forward, stands up, hops out of the bath, and holds his hands out to help Tonks out after him. Usually she'd refuse his fussing, but Remus clearly wants to treat her, so she lets him. The bathroom air feels chilly after the warmth of the bath, and Remus grabs a towel from the radiator to wrap her in. He grins, puts both hands on Tonks' shoulders, and kisses her softly, so that she can feel the smile on his mouth. He's restrained and reserved in front of other people and often even when they're alone. So when he does get mushy like this it makes Tonks feels so cherished and special. She's beyond lucky to have met somebody who makes her feel that way.

He pecks her on the forehead and reaches for his own towel, which gives Tonks the opportunity to observe him naked. Now that Remus has been dispatched to her old bedroom and she's sharing a bed with Mum, she hasn't seen him nude for weeks. Well, she sees him stagger home the morning after a full moon, but that doesn't count. Aside from his legs, his torso is the most frequently damaged part of his body. The wolf often gets scars on its stomach and chest when it's been hunting (ironically, Remus doesn't grow much body hair normally, so his chest scars are always obvious). His ribcage reminds her of a statue of Jesus she once saw in a Muggle church- gaunt and bloody. The cuts he gets there are difficult to heal.

Remus' biggest scar is across his back. It's pink and scaly, starting on his spine and jagging up to reach his neck. If you know it's there you can spot the top part against his collar when he's wearing a shirt, although now he's facing away from her with his shirt off Tonks can see the scar in full. She's never asked when he got it, although she suspects that it's a few years old at least. He's lived through almost four hundred full moons. Four _hundred._ It doesn't bear thinking about, except it _does_ because it's Remus' reality.

Tonks hasn't asked Remus how he got the scar either. He probably doesn't know. A nasty collision with a tree or a rock? A bite or scratch from another animal? A fall? Did somebody attacked him? If they did, then that person (realistically, that _man_ ) would have ended up with a lot worse than a scar. Even now, when they're married and she's expecting his baby next year, Tonks doesn't want to ask Remus if the werewolf has ever killed anybody. She'd like to know for definite, and she's almost sure that the answer is no. But there's a chance that it isn't, and she won't make him relive it if it did happen.

The scar across his back only hurts him if there's pressure on it. More often, he gets backache and pains in his neck. Remus' shoulder-blades are covered in welts from where the wolf's body has exploded through. He's got cellulite on his stomach, shoulders and thighs from the way his body contorts when he transforms and shrinks when he turns back. Transformations give him bruises in those places too. As he wraps his towel round his waist, Tonks notes that his balls are bruised- he often gets hurt down there as when the wolf fights its way out, or when it knocks itself when running. In her research about werewolf babies, Tonks read the disturbing fact that male werewolves have been known to try to have sex with sheep they've killed, or cows, or fallen-over trees. She can't bear to ask Remus if that's true- but if anything like that's happened to him it would explain a lot about why he finds sex uncomfortable and shameful and why he ties himself up in knots if he suspects for a second that he's done something to her that she didn't want.

And then there's the bite-scar. Left arm, where his forearm meets his shoulder. It's an ugly scarlet splodge, more like a burn than a bite, except for the two punctures where Greyback's canine teeth had ripped his flesh. That always makes Tonks wince. He was so little when it happened- how far was he from getting his arm torn off? Probably not very- Greyback is skilled at what he does. He'd have known how to infect Remus without risking killing him.

The scar gets inflamed in the days before the full moon. The first sign that the wolf is coming.

"What are you looking at?" Remus asks, tying his towel around himself.

"Nothing," Tonks says too hastily, then corrects herself, "I mean- you. You look really nice today,"

Telling Remus she's eyeing his scars will ruin his good mood.

"Oh. Thanks,"

"Not just nice," she changes tack, realising that 'you look nice' is the blandest statement imaginable, "Beautiful. Sexy. Proper fit,"

"No need to overdo it," Remus says, cocking an eyebrow.

"I'm not!"

He chuckles and leans in to kiss her cheek. When he's close, she can see the little scar on his hairline- the only one which isn't of werewolf origin. Remus got it when James and Peter were climbing the greenhouses and school, and Peter's lagging foot accidentally smashed one of the windows. A shard of glass had caught Remus on the forehead. The four Marauders had legged it back to the common room, with Remus dripping blood everywhere. He had was able to patch himself up decently enough that nobody noticed the cut later. However, when the damage to the greenhouse was reported at breakfast the next morning, Lily Evans had worked out what had happened. She'd cornered the Marauders outside Transfiguration and threatened to grass them up. When Sirius and Remus had told Tonks this anecdote in the Grimmauld Place drawing room a couple of years ago, Sirius had insisted that the only reason Lily didn't tell on the Marauders was because Remus was her favourite. Remus had dismissed this, although his denial was clearly out of embarrassment.

The scar healed well (even as a twelve-year-old, Remus had been adept at using healing magic on himself) and now it's tiny and faint. Tonks likes it; it makes her happy that Remus has got a scar which is a result of a dumb teenage prank. Merlin knows enough of her own scars are from those sort of daft accidents.

"You look proper fit, too," he says, back in the bathroom.

It makes Tonks giggle when he uses her own phrases back on her. He puts his hands back on her shoulders, walks her back to Andromeda's bedroom and hands her her pyjamas. He's put his own in there was well, and they get changed together, which seems childishly funny, like they're on a secret sleepover at school. Or, Tonks acknowledges, like being an ordinary couple who get to live together normally. When Dad first went away and they first started living with Mum, Tonks planned for her and Remus to spend one night a week back at the flat. By now, however, life's got in the way and they only make it back for the nights around the full moon.

"It's almost like being back at the flat, isn't it?" says Tonks. This living arrangement isn't ideal, but they need to be here for Mum and, besides, it makes simple stuff like getting changed for bed in the same room seem excitingly furtive. It's fun, in a way.

"Yes,"

"Is it weird for you that you only lived there for a couple of months?" Tonks asks. Remus moved in after they got engaged at the start of July, but they've been living here with Mum since September.

Her husband considers. "Not especially. I suppose I'm used to moving around. I didn't want to live in your flat, I want to live with you,"

"Do you want something?" Tonks questions.

"No. Why?"

"Because you're being awfully charming this evening. Anyone would suspect you'd broken something important of mine and you're trying to get in my good books before you tell me,"

"We both know that you're better than I am at breaking stuff," he points out.

Tonks looks up from drying her feet to chuck a pillow at him.

"Is it _such_ a surprise that I can be charming?" Remus asks, with a mock-disappointed sigh.

"I know what's brought this on- seeing the Weasleys at the weekend," Tonks realises, "Has Arthur been giving you husband advice again?"

"What do you mean, 'again'?"

She pins him with a look.

"Alright, he may have given me relationship advice once or twice before," Remus concedes. He stands up to knot the tie on his pyjama bottoms.

"I knew it,"

He throws the cushion back at her.

"Seriously, though, thanks for tonight. You make me feel proper happy. Proper loved,"

He needs to hear that because a few months ago she confessed that she suspected that her love for him was stronger than his for her. She doesn't feel that way anymore, and Remus needs to know that.

Because Remus can't possibly accept a compliment, he changes the subject. "Maybe I'll plagiarise Arthur and write a book,"

"That's already been done. Haven't you ever read _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Witches_?" Tonks replies, smirking as she goes along with his subject-change (she can't be bothered to be exasperated by him all the time).

"What's that?" he asks, laughing.

"It's a book. The Weasleys have one lying around the Burrow,"

"Perhaps I should take a look,"

"Trying to learn about girls from books sounds very you,"

"Maybe that's where Arthur learnt the advice he give me,"

"It's more of a Fred-and-George thing," Tonks explains.

"Do the twins need help with girls?" Remus asks. He's hopeless at gossip- even Weasley gossip, which is usually unavoidable.

"Fred's caught up in an on-off saga with a girl called Angelina Johnson, George is officially single and mostly dates Muggles," Tonks rattles off.

Her husband considers, then murmurs, "I remember Angelina,"

"Anyway, they got the book for Ron. Merlin knows he needs help with Hermione," Tonks sighs.

Their conversation is interrupted by the sound of a clunking from downstairs as somebody arrives in the fireplace.

"Hello?" says Andromeda's voice.

"Hi, Mum," Tonks hollers down, "How was Poker?"

"I won a box of chocolates," Mum calls back.

"Cool,"

"They're white chocolates, and you know I don't like those. Do you two want them?" Mum replies.

Tonks looks at Remus. _You two?_ they mouth at each other. Mum doesn't like them being a "you two".

"Weird," Tonks whispers to her husband, "Have you been secretly running her bubble baths as well?"

Remus grins and lifts an eyebrow at her. There's the sound of footsteps as Mum walks up the first few stairs.

"Do you two want them or not?"

"Yeah, course," Tonks shouts back. One of the only good parts about being pregnant and not being an Auror anymore is that she can eat rubbish.

"I'll apparate back to my room," whispers Remus.

"Why? She's being all 'you two' with us. That's a good sign,"

"Yes, but another item on the list of 'Scenes I Don't Want Your Mother To See' is us hurriedly getting dressed in her bedroom," he says, giving her a knowing look.

"Okay, good point,"

"There's some risks," he says, squeezing her shoulder before he leaves, "That I'm not willing to take".


	70. Question Marks

Question Marks

"Granny?"

"Yes?"

"Did it hurt when Mummy and Daddy died?"

"It didn't hurt your Mummy. It happened too fast to hurt. Your Dad might have hurt a bit before he died,"

"Why?"

"He was in a fight. You know that,"

"Did it hurt a lot?"

"I don't know. Perhaps,"

"Will it hurt when I die?"

"No,"

"Are you sure?"

"No,"

"When will I die, Granny?"

"Not for a long, long time, I expect,"

"Good".

* * *

"Granny?"

"Yes?"

"Do you have a Granny?"

"I did. She died a long time ago,"

"Like Mummy?"

"Yes, she died a long time ago like your Mummy,"

"Did you have a Mummy?"

"Yes, but she's dead too,"

"Why is everybody dead, Granny?"

"Not everyone,"

"Yeah. Mummy and Daddy and Grandad and your Mummy and your Granny. Is your Daddy dead?"

"Yes, he is,"

"See! Everybody we know is dead,"

"You and I are alive. Harry and Ginny are alive. The Macmillans are alive. The children in the playground are alive,"

"Harry died,"

 _"Who told you that?"_

"Don't know,"

"Teddy, who told you that Harry died?"

"Nobody told. I heard it,"

"From who?"

"Don't know. Are you angry, Granny?"

"I'm only angry if you don't tell me the truth,"

"I! Don't! Know!"

"Fine. That's fine. You're not in trouble and there's no need to shout,"

"Why is hearing it bad?"

"It's not bad, but I would have preferred to tell you myself,"

"Why?"

"I'll speak to Harry about it next time he's here,"

"Is Harry in trouble?"

" _Nobody_ is in trouble, Teddy,"

"Promise?"

"I promise,"

"Okay".

* * *

"Granny?"

"Yes?"

"Do you miss Mummy?"

"Yes,"

" _I_ miss her,"

"I know. I'm sorry she isn't here,"

"Does she miss _me_?"

"I don't know that,"

"Why?"

"I don't know where she is, or if she can miss anybody now,"

"I know where she is! She's in the cemtarary!"

"Oh, yes. Of course. She's there,"

"Silly Granny".

* * *

"Granny?"

"Yes?"

"You're Mummy's mummy,"

"Yes, I am,"

"Do you l love Mummy?"

"I love your Mummy very much,"

"More than me?"

"I love you as much as I love her,"

"But if you chose,"

"I love you exactly the same,"

"But-"

"I love you and your Mummy the same, and that's final,"

"Did Mummy love you?"

"Yes,"

"Did you love Daddy?"

"No,"

"But you were married!"

"No, your Daddy was married to your Mummy. I was married to Grandad. Remember?"

"Oh. Yeah. Why don't you love Daddy?"

"We didn't know each other for long enough. We didn't always get on,"

"Why?"

"We were different people,"

"Why?"

"If you're going to keep saying 'why' I'm going to get cross,"

"Why?"

"That's it, no pudding for you tonight,"

"I hate you, Granny,"

"That's what your Mummy used to say sometimes, too".

* * *

"Granny?"

"Yes?"

"Victoire has two Grannies,"

"Yes, she does,"

"Why?"

"Because her Mummy has a mummy and her Daddy has a mummy,"

"She calls them Maman and Papa,"

"Yes, because-"

"She's French, that's why she talks funny. Did my Daddy have a mummy?"

"Yes,"

"Is she dead?"

"Yes. She died before your Mum and Dad met each other,"

"Did you meet her?"

"No, but I think we have photographs. I'll show you later if you like,"

"Yes, please".

* * *

"Granny?"

"Yes?"

"When's teatime?"

"Soon,"

"I'm hungry,"

"It'll be ready soon,"

"I'm bored,"

"Go and play,"

"I can't,"

"Don't be silly, why not?"

"I left my train in the playground,"

"You daft thing. You've got to start being more careful with-"

"Didn't lose it. I wanted to leave it,"

"Why did you want to do that? Your Uncle George bought you that train,"

"I wanted to leave it,"

"Well that was very silly and naughty and ungrateful. Uncle George will be upset. Why did you do something as naughty as that?"

"Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry! I'm sorry, Granny! I'm sorry!"

"That's enough of that. I've told you before not to work yourself up. Now take a deep breath and tell me why you did something as silly as leave your train in the playground,"

"Don't know,"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know?"

"I thought you liked playing trains,"

'I do,"

"You left it in the park because you liked it?"

"When's tea ready?"

"Don't try to get around me, young man. I'm trying to get to the bottom of this,"

"I don't know why. I wanted to leave it there and never ever come back. I don't know why,"

"Oh. Teddy,"

"Mmpf,"

"Hmm,"

"Granny, why are you hugging me so tight?"

* * *

"Granny?"

"Yes?"

"If you could bring Grandad or Mummy or Daddy back alive, who would you choose?"

"Don't ask me questions like that,"

"Why?"

"Because it isn't fair. It upsets me when you ask those questions,"

"I don't want you to be upset. I want to _know,"_

"I can't give you an answer. You know that I love you lots, and your Mummy and Daddy did too,"

"You always say that,"

"I'm going to keep saying it,"

"Can you say 'Binglebonglefabdabmonkeypoofartmachine' instead?"

"If you're very, _very_ good, I'll say it tonight at bedtime".

* * *

"Granny?"

"Yes?"

"I like you and me together,"

"That's a nice thing to say,"

"Our life is good,"

"It is, isn't it?"

"I love being alive,"

"I know. I love you being alive, too".


	71. Cankerous

**I've been looking forward to writing this for months. Warnings for language and a dark/twisted theme. All the dialogue was written by JK Rowling and not by me because, in case you hadn't worked out by now, I am not JK Rowling.**

 _The tainted love you've given,_

 _I give you all a girl can give you,_

 _Take my tears and that's not nearly all._

 _Oh, tainted love._

 **-** Gloria Jones.

Cankerous

He is with her. Seated beside one another as King to her Queen, while they hold court amongst their nobility. Here, she is truly alive. They rule, as they will rule everything. Together, they are unstoppable.

Her Master is speaking about destroying Potter. The boy has meddled in their plans for too long. He can be disposed of easily, especially now Dumbledore is dead and the Dark Lord's has gained greater knowledge of the boy's luck thus far.

"I understand better now. I shall need, for instance, to borrow a wand from one of you before I go to kill Potter," the Dark Lord explains.

Bellatrix is sure she must have misheard. The Dark Lord has no need to borrow another's wand. His own weapon is powerful enough.

"No volunteers?" asks the Dark Lord, then turns to Bellatrix's brother-in-law, "Let's see… Lucius, I see no reason for you to have a wand anymore,"

Lucius Malfoy looks up. His eyes have been glued to the table throughout the Dark Lord's speech. Coward. Barely able to look into his Master's eyes, despite the debt he owes the Dark Lord. Lucius owes their Master his freedom, his life and the life of his son. The least he can do is look the Dark Lord in the face.

"My Lord?" he croaks. _Coward,_ Bellatrix growls in her head. _Coward._

"Your wand, Lucius," the Dark Lord re-iterates, "I require your wand,"

Momentarily, Lucius stammers. Bella wants to shake him. When the Dark Lord asks, you do _not_ hesitate. To be asked such a favour from their Lord is an honour. Bellatrix does not know what the Dark Lord needs a wand for, but it will be important. It will be magnificent. Bellatrix feels a flicker of jealousy spark inside her. She wishes that she had not hesitated when the Dark Lord asked this favour. She should have offered first. Now it is Lucius's wand which the Dark Lord will use to achieve his next goal. His wand which will be of service to the Dark Lord, and which will have the honour of being wielded by such majesty and might. After all his failings, Lucius does not deserve this. Bellatrix composes herself so as not to glare at her brother-in-law.

Lucius gets a hold of himself and withdraws his wand. The Dark Lord raises it and Bellatrix's eyes follow her Master's gaze. She cannot tell if he is merely scrutinising the wand, or preparing to use it. She holds her breath. The Dark Lord's magic is a thrill to behold. Beliefs in Mudblood gods are revolting, although there _is_ a godlike quality about Bellatrix's Master. The power of him. And now she is basking in that power. His right-hand man. His most faithful servant. She was proved that there is no length she will not go to for him. She knows that she will keep proving it. She _longs_ to keep proving it.

Which is more than can be said for Malfoy. When the Dark Lord asks what the wand is, Lucius continues to stutter and stall. And when the Dark Lord re-examines their wands, Lucius moves forward as if he believes the Dark Lord is about to swap wands.

The Dark Lord does not miss the movement. Bellatrix's Master does not miss anything.

"Give you my wand, Lucius? _My_ wand?" he breathes, "I have given you your liberty, Lucius, is that not enough for you?"

The Dark Lord freed Lucius from Azkaban, despite Lucius' failing at the Ministry last year and despite Draco's proven impotence. Their Master is magnanimous.

The Dark Lord lets the question hang for a moment, then continues, "But I have noticed that you and your family seem less than happy of late. What is it about my presence in your home that displaces you, Lucius?"

Bellatrix's brother-in-law jolts. "Nothing - nothing, my Lord!" he insists hastily.

The Dark Lord's voice lowers. _"_ Such _lies_ , Lucius…"

Like her Master, Bellatrix is not conceited enough not to admit her own mistakes. She was mistaken about Lucius Malfoy. When she first knew him, Bellatrix liked and admired Malfoy. She encouraged Mother and Father to organise a match between Cissy and Lucius. Upon their escape from prison, Lucius allowed Bella and the Lestrange boys to live in his house. He seemed refined and intelligent and strong. Now, Bellatrix knows that his strength is a mask. Malfoy is weak, feeble-minded and cowardly, not to mention incompetent, and his son is the same. Lucius does not know how to behave in the Dark Lord's presence. One does not stammer or stall in front of their Master. One does not yelp and exclaim. And one does not, ever, lie.

"Why do the Malfoys look so unhappy with their lot?" the Dark Lord asks, as his snake winds its way around his shoulders, "Is my return, my rise to power, not the very thing they professed to desire for so many years?"

The Dark Lord's resurgence is not only what Bellatrix desired. It is what kept her alive. Many prisoners kill themselves in Azkaban, or die from misery and neglect. Bellatrix knew that death was not a choice for her. She had to stay alive for her Master. He would return to the world one day, and she would return to him. If not suicide, Azkaban drives many to insanity. For years Bellatrix had heard the screams of the deranged down the corridors. She knew she could not become one of them. She had to keep her wits, her beliefs and her identity. She had to remember why she was locked up and why it was worth it. She could never lose sight of what she was fighting for. Instead of making her lose her mind, Azkaban galvanised Bellatrix's convictions. She had lost contact with her sister, parents and Death Eater family. She could only hear Rodolphus and Rabastan from along the corridor. She had no house or money, and her family connections were of no significance to the prison guards. She had nothing to entertain her. She was powerless. She had lost all the trappings of the lifestyle she had enjoyed. Her Lord had vanished. All she had left was faith.

Bellatrix had left prison sharper, bolder and more determined than ever to serve her Lord. She was ravenous to return to his cause and to do his bidding. She had proved that the infamy and power which the Dark Lord's campaign provided her were not important. It was the cause _itself_ which she valued above all else. Prison had proved this to Bellatrix, and Bellatrix had proved this in prison.

Back in the Malfoys' dining room, Lucius is fidgeting like a schoolboy. "Of course, my Lord," he murmurs, "We did desire it - we do,"

Malfoy is making mincemeat of this. Bellatrix glimpses Narcissa gazing worriedly at her son, and decides to take this discussion into her own hands. She lurches forward so hard that the edge of the table wedges against her belly.

"My Lord, it is an honour to have you here in our family's house. There can be no higher pleasure," Bellatrix interjects. Her voice is hoarse from thinking about what she proved in Azkaban, and it gets hoarser on the words _"in our family's house"._ Malfoy Manor has been her home for the last year and a half, so as much of a disappointment as Lucius and Draco are, the Manor counts as Bellatrix's home. And her Master has chosen to base himself here.

"No higher pleasure. That means a great deal, Bellatrix, from you," the Dark Lord approves. Bella could erupt with pride.

"My Lord knows I speak nothing but the truth!" she responds fervently. Lucius lies to their Master. Snape, for all his success in murdering Dumbledore, is untrustworthy. Wormtail is an imbecile. Mulciber believes his own lies, and Rowle obeys Dolohov above the Dark Lord. Only Bellatrix can be relied upon to tell their Master the truth every time.

Her Master is eyeing her thoughtfully. Bellatrix's skin is flushed, her heart's hammering and her body feels hot. Her Master can have this effect merely by looking at her. Rodolphus could never make her feel this way.

"No higher pleasure," the Dark Lord muses, and Bellatrix nods, "Even compared with the happy event that, I hear, has taken place in your family this week?"

Bellatrix stops nodding. What? She doesn't understand. She gazes at the Dark Lord intently, making eye contact. They have a strong, sacred connection- if she looks at him closely she will be able to decipher his meaning.

"I don't know what you mean, my Lord," Bellatrix says out loud.

"I'm talking about your niece, Bellatrix," the Dark Lord explains. Bellatrix is again puzzled. She has no niece. There is only Draco.

"And yours, Lucius and Narcissa," her Master continues, "She has just married the werewolf, Remus Lupin,"

Lupin. Bellatrix knows that name. Lupin is the werewolf in the Order of the Phoenix. He is one of the many fools who attempt to protect Potter. He is a beast- filthy and feral. The type of scum Dumbledore simpered over, until the Dark Lord had him snuffed from life.

It takes another second for Bellatrix to register the Dark Lord's meaning, and when she does, she almost flinches. By "niece" her Master is referring to Andromeda's half-blood ragamuffin. Bellatrix reels, and then, as the information sinks in further, she feels sick. _She has just married the werewolf._ Andromeda's half-blood has married a werewolf.

Bellatrix gazes at her Master, bemused. He is smirking at her now, mouth curling as he concludes, "You must be so proud,"

Bellatrix can tell from her Master's expression that this news is true. Narcissa's dining room seems blur and spin. Andromeda's half-blood scallywag has married a werewolf. This is foulest, most despicable news Bella could ever have imagined. Andromeda running away with the Mudblood was a fiasco. It took Bellatrix _years_ to convince her Master that her sister's selfishness and degradation did not reflect their family's views. The shock and shame almost ruined their parents. And now the spawn of Andromeda's disgraceful union has gone further. She has married somebody- some _thing-_ less than human.

The Dark Lord's guests, lesser servants than Bellatrix, are crowing with mirth. Bellatrix's face is burning, and the tears of devotion in her eyes have turned to tears of shock, fury and humiliation. She must speak, she must cease the mockery and make the Dark Lord understand how revolted she is by this news.

"She is no niece of ours, my Lord," Bellatrix chokes out, "We - Narcissa and I - have never set eyes on our sister since she married the Mudblood,"

Andromeda was barely out of school and Bellatrix hadn't long been married to Rodolphus when it happened. Bella has managed to forget the details of her sister's elopement- now, she can only remember Mother shrieking, and Narcissa stepping off the Hogwarts Express in tears. Bellatrix can recall some details about Andy: her face, her birthday, the fact that she was skilled at fixing and mending. But Bella has managed to forget many other details about her sister. After the initial shock had worn off, it was easy; Andy was a traitor. She was not who Bellatrix thought she was. Therefore, the sister Bellatrix thought she'd lost wasn't a real person- certainly not the real Andy Black. If Andromeda had not been so devious, Bella would have known what she was, and she would not have loved her as her sister. Once the truth of what Andy was had been revealed, Bellatrix had no reason to mourn.

Bella knew that Andromeda and the Mudblood had a child, though she had filed this information away. She did not consider them for years, even during the endless, empty hours in Azkaban. After her escape, the news that the half-blood girl worked for the Ministry _and_ the Order of the Phoenix, enraged Bella, although she pretended that this was only to do with her hatred for the Order, not Andromeda's half-blood urchin specifically. She endeavours to admit their connection as little as possible. At the Ministry last Summer, Bellatrix had duelled with the half-blood, and almost killed her although, presuming that he was the more dangerous one, she had turned her attention to Sirius. Now it transpires that that was a mistake. Sirius was powerful and unpredictable, but he had not desecrated their family in the way that Andromeda and now the daughter have.

All Bella can think to do is deny their relationship to the Dark Lord: "This brat has nothing to do with either of us, nor any beast she marries,"

Bella would give anything for that to be true. But it isn't. Andy is her sister by blood, and blood is what matters. Bellatrix's pure, magical Black blood, untainted for so long, was begrimed with dishwater when Andromeda eloped with the Mudblood. And now it has been poisoned further with inhuman elemtns. It is an aberration. It is against nature. It is beyond grotesque and debased and loathsome. Bellatrix does not know a word which can describe what an atrocity it is, what a crime. She stares at her Master, desperate for him to understand, to agree, to tell Bellatrix that that is not her fault.

Instead, the Dark Lord turns to Bella's nephew. _"_ What say you, Draco? Will you babysit the cubs?" he inquires.

His voice is gentle, and it makes Bellatrix want to smash her fist onto the table. Abhorrent images flicker through her mind: the half-blood slut in bed with a werewolf, a vial of pure, scarlet blood streaked with grey wolf's hairs, a half-human half-werewolf baby. And then the baby grown up, a lupine minotaur striding through Bellatrix's family home.

This cannot happen. They will not breed, _they will not breed._ A mongrel like that cannot exist. Bellatrix will tear it from the half-blood trull's womb with her own hands. The Black blood will not be polluted in this way.

"Enough," declares the Dark Lord, "Enough,"

Their guests stop cackling, but the sting of humiliation does not fade. Bellatrix is almost in tears. She wants to sob and she wants to vomit and she wants to smash up the table and cast Crucio on everybody around it who is tittering at her. She wants to sink to her knees and assure her Master that she knew nothing of this, that she is as enraged and repulsed as he is.

She holds her breath, waiting for her Master.

"Many of our oldest family trees become a little diseased over time," the Dark Lord acknowledges, "You must prune yours, must you not, to keep it healthy?"

Her Master understands. There is no need to plead and beg and explain, because her Master does not blame Bellatrix for this. He will not let this barbarity diminish Bellatrix's loyalty to him. He is wise and forgiving, and he will not use this catastrophe against Bellatrix or her sister. Bellatrix bites in her sigh of relief.

"Cut away those parts that threaten the health of the rest," the Dark Lord elaborates. Bellatrix knew that already, and now her Master has given her the order.

"Yes, my Lord. At the first chance!" she breathes.

She will kill the girl. Tearing the pup from the womb would be too late- such a monster cannot be allowed to exist at all. Such a marriage (Bellatrix feels queasy at the word. A union with a beast is not a marriage. It is an act of degradation, so heinous that it is violence. It is not merely against nature, it is _flouting_ its unnaturalness) must be ended, by destroying the parties who have entered into it so selfishly and depravedly.

Bellatrix will put a stop to this monstrosity. Nature commands, _the Dark Lord commands,_ that Bellatrix wipe out this aberration. She will do it. She will stop at nothing. There will be none of her usual fun, either, no humiliation or Crucio before she kills the girl. This is not a game. Andromeda's half-blood imp is as good as dead, and once the girl had been destroyed Bellatrix will kill the werewolf. Greyback, since finding out about the spy on his camp, has been desperate to get his hands on him, but Bellatrix will beat him to it. Greyback would be acting out of fury and revenge. Bellatrix will kill the half-blood's werewolf out of necessity. Greyback would surely make a mess of it to- he is outside now, where he belongs, tied up like a dog. He is powered by his own savagery and bloodlust; emotions will get in Greyback's way. Bellatrix is a solider. This is her duty and she will carry it out with discipline and pride.

Her Master approves. "You shall have it," he affirms.

Bellatrix attempts to hold his gaze so he can see the understanding and determination in his eyes. Her Master though, addresses the room. Holding court again.

"And in your family, so in the world," he pronounces, "We shall cut away the canker that infects us until only those of the true blood remain,"

 _Yes,_ Bellatrix thinks, letting out a sigh of devotion, _yes_. She has failed to kill Andromeda's brat before. She will not fail again. She understands now that the half-blood's destruction must be her focus.

The Dark Lord moves on to discussing other matters. Usually Bella hangs on her Master's every word, though now she cannot concentrate. Two thoughts are squabbling inside her brain: the fact that she must kill Andromeda's half-blood crawler, versus disbelief at the fact that the girl has married a werewolf. Bellatrix struggles to think of the words in a sentence in her head. How could the half-blood trollop do this? How could _anybody?_ What has Andromeda been doing this last quarter-century, if her daughter can be so degenerate?

The vile images flit through Bellatrix's brain again: fur and blood and claws and teeth. A werewolf in a wedding dress. The sound of human breath mingled with canine grunting. Muddy pawprints stamped across the hallway of the house she grew up in. Teeth marks ripping through the Black family tree tapestry which hung in her aunt and uncle's house. Andromeda was blasted off the tree when she ran away. Her Mudblood husband and their daughter never appeared on it. And now Bellatrix will ensure that there are no further children in that line. She will ensure that, as Andromeda was wiped off the tapestry, her half-blood guttersnipe and the werewolf will be wiped off the face of the Earth.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading. I had a blast writing this chapter and would be very grateful if you reviewed. I'll be taking a break from publishing new instalments of this fic for now. Instead, I'll be editing the existing chapters, and working on some other stories. Have a fab Easter and stay safe xx.**


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